From in shadow behind the curtain of blue velvet, I watch

The singular silhouette which moves with light grace

As the spotlights play with warmth on her doll's face,

And the singular audience member, sitting in front,

Who is my world, my heaven and stars,

As he applauds, enamored and in love with the show.

I stand in the black, unseen backstage,

Pouring out as much dedicated sweat of emotion

As she performing in the glitter

To bring that smile to his lips and sparkle to his eyes.

It is a show that never ends,

Interrupted only for her continual bows,

Receptions of applause and roses which litter the stage.

My you see it in the program?

Misspelled in plain font after the pages of her biography,

It is there still, in black ink, permanent;

As permanent as the engraving on my heart

Which spells his angel name.

There is one, singular rose, dried into potpourri

Which I cherish as a beast of a tale once did,

Given to me by another stagehand who understood

That all of myself I give to him, to his happiness,

To my passion of this show.

He knows I am there, he knows I try;

But when it quickly comes time to applaud again,

He has eyes only for the gazelle in the merry light.

Gels on the spotlights...

Quick scenery change, I aid her into costume...

I pull the curtain, she is ready for another bow.

He cheers with bright radiance,

I rest against the black wall,

Soaking in my every pore the sound of his delighted voice,

Preparing myself to keep this show running

And his bliss eternal.