Ghosts

There are always ghosts waiting in the wings

     ever seeking to edge past casting room doors.

Relying on fading familiarity to gain sudden entrance

     miscued onto mind’s stage,

They ignore painted-over, long forgotten stars,

     demand a spot lit, cameo appearance,

           hoping to again enthrall an audience

held captive by waking dreams.

     Longing to repeat

          tired, overplayed lines,

a bright, entrancing self-important grin

     begs

          one more chance, one last show

 unleash heartbreak’s havoc,

conveniently not remembering

     in their desperation for validation

that the final curtain dropped,

     houselights dimmed,

          on their pathetic act long ago.

Still, they soft-shoe, caper, steal scenes

     they feel should be theirs by prior right.