The figures surrounding me are twitching and teeming,
The lights are a blurred blue from behind the curtains;
All else is black or grey or a bit of red.

Clever characters conversing,
Wound tight with nerves and thick stage makeup-
In shades of pink and peach.

I clutch the heavy velvet,
Soft like clouds but weighted like fear and joy.

There is something sad in such a sparkling place;
The conclusion of a job we’ve slaved for,
Staining our hands with paint,
Breathing in saw dust and pricking our fingers.

But oh,
As the music starts,
The performance takes flight.
Notes born from the orchestra,
Bounding forward,
Curling itself within the wrinkles of the gowns worn,
By the faces painted ruby;
It makes your heart flicker,
And your feet hold down like lead.