my sunday poem … # 9

my sunday poem …  # 9

This was inspired by a friend of mine who worked in repertory theatre for many years. 

the actor

and so I bow
before the final curtain
a star without a name
of that I am quite certain
as I go back to my dressing room
down the stairs.

into the night
from the backdoor of the theatre
out of the limelight
to the quiet of an evening
and throw away my lines
for another day.

into my house
number one rehearsal street
put the kettle on
take the weight off my feet
and read the morning papers
much too late.

into my bed
the stage on which I sleep
blanketing my thoughts
by counting sightless sheep
and dream of all the parts
i used to play.

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