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They All Called Him Mr Lonely

A tear falls in silence

Leaving a sad little rivulet
In the actors greasepaint
That covers his lined and now weary face

Once he was well known upon the stage of life
Loved, sought after, the life of the party
The object of fickle fame and desire


He played major roles in front of packed houses
To wild crowd approval
Experienced the love of the crowd
With it's accolades, it strewed roses
And his fair share of standing ovations

But! Time changes everything


He can still sing the same songs
Dance the same crisp, clever steps
And delivers his lines with the same vim and vigor
He even tacked on some new material
Learned brand new skills
But it makes absolutely no difference

They all call him.. poor old Mr Lonely

He plays on drafty stages, in old theaters
Full of half empty seats
To people who don't appear to care
Much less appreciate

So, tonight ... he'll play his well rehearsed role
For the very last time
Then when he has spoken his last line
Good night America
The curtain will fall for the very last time

After a short pause.. he will reappear
Take one final bow.. tears in his eyes
Only to find the theater is empty
For the meager audience is all gone
Headed for home

Then as the lights fade to black
He will stand there all alone
Forlorn and forgotten
Fondly remembering yesterday
The glory days that will never come again

He raises his hand .. a final salute to the past
Then.. head bowed , shoulders hunched
He pulls open the old stage door and leaves

Outside his lonely tears that stain his face
Fall down, the flood of them
Watering the dust that swirls around his aching feet

Then Mr Lonely .. simply disappears!

Midi... Mr Lonely

By jollynoblefrog

© 2012 jollynoblefrog (All rights reserved)


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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Tuning It Up (challenge has been closed)

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