Life has given me tickets
To seats in the first row;
An excellent vantage point.
But somehow I never quite seemed
To make it onto the stage itself-
I must have some other role to play.

It's an odd show to watch;
The constant deciet of spoken lines,
The superficial pattern of the colorful cosmetics
Is quite easy to sneer at-
(Though I can't dismiss the notion
That they seem so happy there.)

There is a wall between the stage and me.

Odd to think that I was born to your same world,.
I Breathe and eat and dream the same as you,
And yet you are miles away, untouchable.
Your thoughts must be a different sort than mine.

How do you know what to say?
How to act, What to sing?
What causes various pedestrians on the street
To dance with instantaneous choreography?

I think I've lost track of the time,
Captivated by your lines,
What is this strange, new threat to rhyme
That thunders in my ears?

Is it really right to show appreciation
Through breaking the spell that these performers weave?

I'm not sure that I would end
The story there, if it were me.
But I'm no Thespian, I fear.
So I applaud and watch the curtains fall,
Still separated from your world,
And dreaming of you all.