Sonnet — To an Actress

I have glimpsed Heaven in a glass of wine
Been awed by Tempest’s thunderous rage
But neither, or anything, have I seen to compare
To the presence of….an actress, upon the stage
For sometimes, when she’s acting, and the light’s ‘just right’
I hear Father Time take an inward breath
And all the world stops….as if to watch
And Shakespeare curses his untimely death
That he were here and I were dead
So he might clothe her beauteous lips with ‘as beautiful’ words
Instead of the rags that clothe them now
Like a summer’s lawn covered with dead birds
And yet, I avow that nothing could detract
From the way she looks; and sounds; (and acts).


©John Steele, 1990, 2008

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