Curtain Call

Poem about a lonely old man

Displaying diminutive movements
in the pale morning,
he puts on his cap.

Muse, the plans
fall apart on the
feel of contemplation.

With curtains gaping,
the outside seeps in,
onto the stage.

He calls out
responses evade,
like echoes in a box.

Existing in a small mind
The outside will not bring him down
before himself.