After the show, I got roses from someone who loves me.
I took them home. I put them in a pretty vase, and I filled it with water.
I placed it on my mantle where I could see them all the time.
They have wilted now. Just like me.
For when the show is over, so is my spirit.
I miss the rehearsals. I miss the sets.
I miss the sound checks, the backstage, blue lights,
And the smell of the popcorn machine.
But most of all, I miss the people.
Getting together after the show, and having dinner,
Because you share a special bond with them.
It is like being in a family.
But when closing night is over, everyone is leaving,
And they are tearing down the set; you kind of have to wonder,
When you'll see them next?
The roses have wilted...just like me.
It has been one week and I don't want to forget.
I see them in my dreams. In my dreams where everybody is dancing,
Everybody is singing, and everybody is alive and together.
The roses are never wilting, and they are always fresh.
I dream to remember, so I won't ever forget.

 
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