Ode to Edie Sedgwick

Mayflower girl surrounded by sins.

East coast blue blood coursing through veins.

Santa Barbara born, raised in the bins,

Escaped to New York to ease her pains.

Poor little rich girl, embraced by the crowd.

She’s danced like a goddess

And the maker was proud.

Watching as she groped for love and affection.

Welcoming her with arms open wide. She couldn’t much help it when “It” garnered attention.

He liked all the money and elite cache.

Edie and Andy sounded right, kindred spirits, with each other to play.

Yet times were quickly changing, as she was led into the dark.

She looked in the mirror; scarred and ravaged

How did she lose that brilliant spark?

Girl on fire rescued from the flame.

At the Chelsea hotel alone, far had she plunged, fifteen minutes of fame.

Andy created his masterpiece with care

Then watched as the pieces fell one by one, dominos falling in unison to the sound of despair.

The day she died was just another day.

He pretended and postured, but the truth was in the end, he claimed be barely knew his fragile protégé.