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After stepping off the stage I retire to my dressing room And rest my feet for a minute. While no one is looking, I pull out the paint and the glitter Of the next part I wish to play. Will I be sweet tempered And as near to pretty as my pencil can draw? Shall I add a little lace and fuss to my costume Or will I be neat, sensible and practical? Is my part wearing thin And my mask slipping a little? Will I forget who I am meant to be And snap at you? I play for three audiences Myself, the world, and you. I spend years preparing some pieces While others I present impromptu. I wish the curtain would fall And I could be alone with the real you for a minute. Maybe, inside, you are like me; And we could draft something worth acting, The rehearsal and premiere Of the world's hardest works: Our lives. Cecelia Hopkins, 1985

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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