My Script

My Script



A character added to the drama of life.

My part arrived when I first cried.

A taradiddle of new joys and strife,

with diminutive amendments I can guide.

True powers rest with the director's side,

who enjoys being the audience too,

makes me play with the script in hide.

Sends some fellow artists to me , to boo,

more of them vexing and come to rebuke.

Which keeps me somewhere always blue,

but he commands me to keep playing truce,

and search for someone in affectionate milieu.

With my feat I do not want to rue,

yet not make my show exaggerant,

and only play in spirits true,

with keeping no liabilities and decant.

I wish I could see what in it is redundant.

Does my script, unpredictably vivacious,

Or if it is ordinarily expectant,

depicts, who makes it totally conspicuous?

This stage today seems very perilous.

My tenure on it is foggy and prospects obscure.

Yet some fellows demand a dance, marvellous.

I return to the drama, hoping I endure.