The play is over, time to leave the stage
The play is over, time to leave the stage,
"This life of ours" — a theater, yesterday's play.
The day keeps rushing, turning page by page,
With laughing moments, tears, and dying embers' gray.
But not a single spark remains of fire's art,
Although the blaze was true and burned so bright.
I look upon the photograph — my heart,
Sees strangers in our courtyard in the light.
Those you once cherished slowly slip away,
Who knew your soul and held you as a friend.
The years fly past, and now you see so clear,
That joy lives in the days that found their end.
The final curtain falls, the stage is bare and cold,
No troupe remains, no lines are left to speak.
It all was here — the love, the grief, the lies so old,
You are the one forgotten in the seat.
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November 24, 2025
