When the glitter and glamour are gone,
Where will you be?
Off to another party?
Another show?
Another silk-lined soirée
sprinkled with champagne bubbles
and empty souls.
The forced chuckles and chortles
of women to young to understand
and men to old to be children.
Will you be there
when the violas stop plucking,
when the costumes are threadbare?
Will you take my heart with you
when the world is too big,
when the images are crisp,
when the sweat and tears dry up
and their stains appear?
Or, will you stay in the garden
where your hand is soft and caresses mine?
Where the laughter is pure
and rings true like the sun on my cheeks.