Roses

If life were a play

I’d choose a supporting role

perform my part flawlessly

bask in the applause.

Sometimes I’d improvise

keep the other actors on their toes

but not so often that it became expected.

Wearing red velvet and purple silk

I’d dance on stage in gold slippers

and toss them to the audience.

At Saturday matinees

I’d ignore critics, play to the gallery.

Sometimes I’d choose

a young girl from the front row

to take my place

and when the final curtain fell

I’d throw roses.