From last night's show
All that was left is a flower
Hesitatingly, I climb the stairs leading to the stage
Walking carefully, not to wake the chair up from their glorious sleep
I pick up the flower, but instead of it still in my hand I hold a dusty page
On which is written 'The tweltfth night'.
Christinne Radu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-last-night-s-show/
