my mind is as cluttered as a

theatre minutes before the curtain

goes up.

    i’m the bag of sand holding

the curtain in place.

the sounds of the auditorium

    ring in my ears.

the scent of popcorn sending

    my mind to wander. 

i’m suddenly aware of the taste of 

the inside of my mouth as

    sweat drips down my forehead.

i can almost taste the excitement,

the impatience of the audience.

The Old Opera House buzzed

with ecstasy, everyone ready to 

see what awaits.

the lights dim.

I grab the rope and up goes

the curtain.

The theatre went silent.

Suddenly, the sounds of the

crowd became all I could hear.

The pit orchestra readying their

instruments, double-checking their music.

The pressure of the audience seemingly preventing

me from getting the curtain all the way up.

The clammy hands of the performers

shook like church bells on sunday morning,

Nervous as an infant about to be baptized.

The music started carefully, and the 

first dancer leaped into the air.

Lilli exhaled and tied her hair up, the

stage starting to feel hotter than normal.

The audience would cheer like no

other, enthralled by the performance.

“Carpe diem”, they had told us that morning.

This poem is about: 


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