Upon the stage…
I have found my love.
To act . . .
To sing . . .
To entertain…
Accolades have come;
Criticisms, too.
I am an Actor;
Female.
We are all Actors.
Labels . . .
Male or Female;
We act…
On stage . . .
On television “sets”…
Or film “sets”
Or “on location”…
What came first?

Stage . . .
Live!
I have the talent…
Rejection is no longer,
The Issue.
Fame?
A bit, infamously.
Ageism…
You betcha’!
I once was “too young”…
For my age.
Now, I am too old;
For my youth.
My age is supposed to be gray…
Wrinkled.
I am smooth…
My face is round and red;
My hair is still red, gold and brown.
Sure, there’s gray . . .
Never long, though.
My angst?
To play 40 . . .
When I’m 50?
And at a strange age.
The business of show…
Wants you very young…
Or very old!
Old Looking, that is.
And I am chubby.
Stick to stage…
Where size is not always…

How you are judged?
And then there’s that dirty word:
I fear to utter —
A four letter hell for us…
creative types.
WORK
What our parents called:
“A Real Job”
Or we called:
Our “Day Job”
A waitress at 50?!
No way!
A secretary . . .
50 and heavy…
Ageism strikes again.
I want to act . . .
On the Broadway stage…
Make my debut.
Fame, perhaps?
To be recognized?
Accepted?
Applauded?
Will writing be the way,
Let’s say . . .
To feeling appreciated?
Do I need that?
I want it . . .
I deserve it…
It is my passion;
To act. . .
To sing . . .
Even if no one noticed–
Except the casting director.
Of course!
And the cast…
Send me a sign . . .