Am Dram

They get ready in the Green Room;
The men struggle with unfamiliar fastenings,
The women wriggle into long skirts
And do each other’s hair.
Conversation is fitful, subdued.
Two catch each other’s eye in the mirror
And both look quickly away.
It is the final performance.
A card is circulating and there’s a collection
For the director and backstage crew.
Fifteen minutes to curtain.

Some do breathing exercises,
Others stretch or read through their lines;
One dances strangely in a corner.
Each prepares differently
But the same mantra
Repeats in every mind:
‘Tonight I’ll get it right.’
It works. No-one misses a cue,
Forgets a prop, or jumps a page.
The audience applaud a world well-realised,
And will be again one day;
But not by these,
Who bow and disappear
Into the wings.

There’s a party, there’s always a party,
To celebrate, to say goodbye
But, most of all,
To put off the moment
When they must return
To themselves and their lives
Where no great role awaits,
And where the only denouement is death.
So who can blame them for occasionally wanting
To be someone different,
To be seen, heard and walk in the light,
For eyes to meet and not look away?

---

Gary Day is a retired English lecturer. He’s always written poetry but now has the time to concentrate on it properly. His other interests include tap dancing, lindy hop and ballroom and amateur theatre. He’s still trying to learn the trumpet and is useless at DIY.

---

To continue enjoying poems like this one and support our writers, please consider donating to Silver Apples Magazine.