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.