You’re waiting in the wings for your turn to go on.
You pull back the curtain. The stage is dark.
The audience is gone. The time has come.
You say your first line. Light is a poem.
And somewhere, somehow, someone hears you.
June 25, 2020
Offstage — July 9, 2013
[ 790 ]
Categories: Drawings, New Poems & Pieces, Recently Banned Literature
William Michaelian 