A bouquet for the leading lady is
A cliché I had forgotten must
Actually happen sometimes. So is
The pushy mother trying to live
The life she wishes she’d had
Through the youth of her daughter.

After the curtain call applause
Dies down, glamourous costumes turn back
Into school uniform, almost believable adults
Turn back into children, and
She becomes just another girl whose mother
Waits for her outside the dressing room.

Her heart is exhausted, her tired smile
Fixed as she receives yet another
Predictably floral surprise.
Perhaps she is wondering what to do
With yesterday’s still blooming bunch.

As she played the part of
A jewel of the jazz age, sparkling
Symmetrically under stage spotlights,
I willingly suspended my disbelief;
In the car home, in the face of
Her mother’s embarrassingly inflated
Pride, did she do the same?

01/31/2017

Posted on 02/20/2017
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