THE FINAL ACT

THE FINAL ACT

The curtains begin to close,

As the actor concludes in prose,

The audience gives a standing ovation,

He goes backstage for the duration,

For he doesn’t want to hear it end,

Because tonight was his last act, my friend,

He takes his final seat in the dressing room chair,

All he can do is look in the mirror and stare,

It’s the evolution of time,

Changes he did find,

Portrayals of life throughout the years,

He does all he can to hold back the tears,

For he poured his blood, sweat and soul,

Into every single role,

That stage was his sanctuary,

A place where he was extraordinary,

Still in costume and a heavily painted face,

He finds it difficult to leave this place,

But he finds the strength to swab the make-up off,

His throat parched he reaches for his drink to quaff,

As the theater light shut down,

He can’t help but to muster a frown,

For he has joined the ranks of her ghosts in fact,

And tonight he gave his all in this his final act.

-brad