She was a universal maven. Up on every trend.
Music, art and literature thrilled her to no end.
She raised no petty cavils. Her eye and mind were keen.
Her taste was impeccable. She was the culture queen.
She painted masterpieces when she was just a maid,
and though detractors said that her genius would fade,
she remained keen in her eighties and proved her critics wrong,
tackling every challenge as they came along.
She kept her zest for life until they laid her down,
and so became the object of the world’s renown.
Although this poem was written about a fictional character, when I started looking for photos of classy ladies, my friend Gloria, who luckily has not been laid down, seemed to fill the bill.