A Stage Exists Someplace
A POEM
When players voices no longer ring,
A set becomes a shabby thing —
Forgotten dreams, an unreal town.
It’s time that we should pull it down.
But I pause to reminisce a while.
I said my lines with frown or smile,
To fit the action; but now it’s past.
My little victories could not last —
In barren disarray they lie
With all the dreams that passed me by.
I shudder at time’s implacable pace.
Yet I know a stage exists someplace
Where I shall say my lines again
And sing of things that might have been
Where nothing holy is cast away,
And secret dreams shall have their day.
Enjoyed reading this?
READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY
SUBSCRIBEYou May Also Enjoy
Body, flesh and blood, feeling.
I have been here before, kneeling
in the snow, in…
Borne up by priestly hands beyond the dark
The clean oblation of the harvest moon
…However pure this love, however holy,
I want to hold your poor flesh in my…