Night Life

The stiff, starched sky falls upon itself,
Hard ripples dipping in scattered spotlight
Fixed just beyond the wings, the story arc
The actors knew too well.

Still, there's a mystery frantic backstage
In a plaza of painted life
Where the powder and frill is gone,
Yet the true stars still shine.

A curious carousel is the chandelier,
The silver chains and gold finish
Dusted away by the timeful night
As crystals spin, spin in unhinged eyes so few.

An exquisite symphony breaks its box
Of softened war and sharpened strife
Until it becomes a trickle of leaves,
Left from the summer of sparkling scores.

Here all but lovers, dreamers sleep,
The night does dangle on hanging alleys,
These so alert with familiar fear
For a show all its own.