Sunday poem

StagedA life spent on squared off stagesBrightly lit, glassed hair salonsKitchens, conference rooms, coffee shops.Everyone gets watched.It ’s always such a performanceTouch up, tummy tucks, airbrushedI ’d rather be off stageIn the shadowsCloaked by velvet curtainsCutting unwieldy curls by feelIn the dark recesses of the few. Here we know to whisper,Lined faces bruised or shadowed.We ’re all ready for our cue;Unkempt, unlit, unscripted.10/22/19

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - October 26, 2019 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs