the needle just pops and hisses at the end of the record stuck in the dusty groove unhappy with the last song played but stuck with the memory of it into perpetuity

the curtain hangs heavy in front of the stage with no one left to pull the rope no more crowds waiting in gleeful anticipation of a repeat performance or cheers

the last match in book where the strip has been worn smooth from a series of constant misfires left to forlornly resign itsepf to a life unfulfilled of purpose

the tap shoes bought before a growth spurt to sit in the dark closet of dance recitals never given of potential wasted in the incongruent nature of time

the words written on a napkin in the frantic burst in the middle of the night to fall between the frame and the mattress forgotten by one more hour of sleep

the sad eyes staring at the sky as the sun sets and the promise of tomorrow is no longer guaranteed as the stars wink out one at a time before them