Curtain Call

The great grand stage is not a threat,

just look at my eyes–they’re laughing!

And my eyebrows are dancing,

and my feet are both poised at a symmetrical degree–

naturally, of course. For they have a mind, 

heart, and soul of their own.

A thinking brain with rattling thoughts that tell them

‘Steady, now walk, now stop, and pose.’


Then they pass the baton to the rest of my body, 

which is ready to finish the race. 

Two limber, yet assured, legs lead the way to the diaphragm,

the deep vacuum that expands with each breath.

The soft vibrations in my chest grow in frequency

as the speech comes to the apex.


Finally, my wings–or maybe arms–return home, back at my sides,

from their journey in flight. 

My words are coming to a close; 

the race is ending, and the finish line is forgotten history.

The last note is a parting word 

not only to the crowd, but to the stage.

I thank her wholeheartedly 

for allowing me the chance to grace her with my presence.

Afterall, she is my greatest inspiration.

This poem is about: 


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