The roar of the greasepaint, (whatever that means),
The lure of the limelight, the shifting of scenes,
The dim upturned faces, the rounds of applause –
These are the hooks – the adrenalin soars;
And you stand at that moment on top of the world,
Your sword in your hand and your banner unfurled,
Your pose struck just so – but if your luck's like mine,
You'll have found you've forgotten your very next line!

Previous Odes of the Month

Return rapidly to Home Page!