For April, Wherever She May Be
By Richard Mabey Jr.
I remember so well,
this lost story to tell,
it was five minutes before curtain,
my friend said for certain,
you came into the theater.
That night, that cool summer’s night,
in the dim light of the footlight,
I gave the performance of my lifetime,
so subtle, so sensitive, so sublime,
so expressive, tearing off the chains of tether.
O’ that little theater in New York,
opening night, complete with champagne cork,
I was nervous, scared, and shaken,
my heart from me, you had taken,
in the old Nat Horne Theater.
The filibuster scene I overflowed with
raw emotion in portraying Jefferson Smith,
the Stewart men would have been proud,
both Jimmy and Rod,
surviving the critics and harsh weather.
your kind words,
melted my old, tired heart,
my infatuation was off the chart,
your touch as gentle as a feather.
To define your beauty, there be no word,
and outside the theater could faintly be heard,
the echo of a downtown train.