If they ever made
a movie of my life,
most would end up
on the cutting room floor,
except for the hour
when I first met you,
reading your lines
as if from memory,
not knowing the camera
was moving in
for our first big close-up,
while I stumbled
to remember anything at all
from a rehearsal
lost long ago in time,
feeling in my heart
as I feel it still,
I must get this right,
before silence and The End
once again engulf
the theater of my dreams.
Movie of My Life
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Rob Mustard 