It Was Some Kind of Production

Spring was an adventure; we were learning the ropes.
Summertime, a little easier going, working out the kinks.
Fall ushered in those warm feelings of getting it down cold.
Now winter’s was upon us; time to show what we’ve done.

Then the end of the run sneaks up on us;
it all comes down to the final performance.
This show, sorry to say, wasn’t one of our best.
Who doesn’t want closing night to end with flourish?
Some nights it feels like five long acts or more.
On a good night the four feel a strong four.
Tonight, well, it’s over; what else can you say?
I hope you were here to help me on the way out,
even if you didn’t get to see the play at its best.

Those blasted stage lights blind me up here.
It’s hard to see much beyond the first few rows.
But I think I glimpsed you, bearing with it all.
Now it’s the curtain call, the final applause.
We line up, last bow, and the velvet screen rises.
I stare one last time, searching to see you,
hope you’ll blow me a kiss, then I’m out.

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