curtain calls

[and so] enters:  
the transition of seasons:  
a season of the facade,  
season for the queen of diamonds, all of her suites,  
her escort, always the jester.  
loud, transparent laughter, spills from her  
hard diamond-shaped lips…  
  
(their absurd narcissism spoils my twilight musings.)  
 
decrepit clock, the dissonance of its “tick-tock,  
tick-tock” — the rusty hand strikes its mark  
   
: heavy, velvet ruby curtains falls down :  
 
(apathetic ovation, the throw of glittery thorns.)  
   
reluctant, the garish masquerade is over —  
the queen of diamonds folded;  
all, waltzed back into her golden,  
mirrored castle…  
anticipate for their next call.                                
   
: stormy breezes, hazy curtains rise :  
   
turns towards my season,  
the fading, violet-gray stage.  
   
i wait,  
wait,  
wait…  
in silent frailty of whispered remembrance…  
    
begins the witching hour’s procession  
black cats play a quartet, whilst grinning.  
   
hush darlings, the starry spirits have  
finally started singing,  
   
embraced in serene stillness,  
 i listen,  
will always listen…  
   
they never receive,  
needed any applause...  
 
only ever wanted…  
 to be heard.