the end of a show

 joy, even if ephemeral

I just wrote a poem

in praise of this year's middle school musical,

I went to the dress rehearsal yesterday,

and I was its first audience,

I took 236 pictures to hold as many moments as I could

so that I could share them with cast and crew,

later I wrote of the whole production,

the next example of individual fulfillment within group fulfillment

as manifested in theater within the womb now

of the Performing Arts Center,

I wrote my praising poem of this production,

and I, at first, concluded it with the sadness

I would feel after a show,

the sadness that an organic whole lived for awhile, 

and now didn't,

when I asked for feedback on this poem from my wife,

she urged me to consider dropping the last sad stanza

which mourned how ephemeral 

the life of a play or musical can be,

I cut that ending out,

for now is the time for joy in what is possible,

whereas, though now, personally, it is my time to feel loss,

now is their time to joy!

by Henry H. Walker

February  8, ‘25