It’s time to step onto stage 

And It’s a long clean page 

My words have had no practice

In front of me is a curious audience 

I’ve tested their patience 

It’s ages since my last performance 

As they take their seats 

Post their welcoming applauds 

I see the wonder in their eyes

And the questions on their faces

What is going through his mind 

Why is the pen shaking in his hand

I come up with four lines 

And two rhymes 

That’s when the nerves settle 

And the story begins to mould 

Pieces of it still stuck in my mind 

It’s the treasure the pen can’t find 

But I tell myself every writer 

has a great story they can’t write

It lives with them 

but can’t be with them. 

I find an angle to focus on 

and the show goes on 

The pen is dancing

the words flowing 

and the crowd following. 

I’m at the edge of the stage 

and the end of the page

it’s the last stanza 

and the end of the performance 

The curtain over the mirror 

I unlock my bedroom door 

and it’s back to life again.