A Stage Exists 

When players voices no longer ring, 
A set becomes a shabby thing---
Forgotten dreams, an unreal town.
It's time that we should pull it down.
I pause to reminisce a while.  
I said my lines with frown or smile,
To fit the action. Now it's past. 
My little victories could not last.
In barren disarray they lie
With all the dreams that passed me by.  
I grieve at time's relentless pace,
Yet know a stage exists someplace
Where I shall say my lines again
And sing of things that might have been---
Where nothing holy is cast away,
And secret dreams shall have their day.