I sit in a small room
There are no flowers in here
No bouquet of roses in front of a well-lit mirror
Nothing here to signify greatness
No notes from fans, managers or lovers
There is only this small desk and chair
An ashtray and a cup of coffee
There isn’t a clock on the wall
And now could be any of many times
I smoke
I wait patiently
I’m nervous, but I try to tell myself that I’m not
Then it comes
The knock on the door
“Everyone’s here. They’re waiting on you.”
I stand
Straighten my tie, smooth my jacket
I draw one final rip of my smoke
Exhale, and wash it back with one last sip of coffee
“Coming”, I say
And with that, I leave the room
And head into
The lion’s den
© Dicky J Loweman 2015