The Stage: In Retrospect

I miss that part of my life sometimes:
The Stage.

I miss those first audition jitters,
Familiarizing self with script;
I miss the turmoil, book to off book,
The repeating of lines and scenes
Until, finally, the curtain rises.

Nervous pacing backstage,
Waiting for the Cue to be delivered;
Racing heart, Wringing hands,
Rehearsing first words and steps,
And then, one step in front of the other.

I miss the pressure, the intensity,
The costumes, the bonding,
The sharing of moments by
A Select Few, For a Select Time:
And, of course, I miss the Crowds.

Laughter, tears, applause,
Wiped eyes, Kleenexes strewn
Across chairs and carpet--
Proof that Something Special
Happened in this place.

Some days, I sorely miss that time in my life,
When youth and passion were inextricably
Linked to character and cause;
When nothing else mattered but being TRUE
To self and script and scribe--

And that cold dark floor where stories breathe:
The Stage.