ON STAGE

Cold sunlight glares through the high windows onto the scarred, wooden stage as I walk its length slowly. My old friend the upright just sits there – battered – bruised – silent.  No more music. A catch-all now for props from long-abandoned comic skits and love scenes.

Stark shadows punctuate the old, stained backdrop.

My footsteps once brought standing-room only audiences to their feet. Now, they echo across the emptiness.

“Condemned,” the billboard reads!  They tear it down tomorrow.  

One sob escapes.

I inhale the dust and wonder: does it come from the room … or from my memories?

~~~

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