Stage Tender

I'm on the stage alone,
dressed in concert black,
playing the cello parts of great symphonic works.

The doors to the hall open and slowly the audience emerges,
seats fluttering with moving programs.
It is time for me to exit before I enter again,
more formally.

But before I reach the door,
it gracefully opens,
as if by magic,

Every role I played,
you were watching me,
waiting for my inevitable departure.
And stoically, you won't even return my smile
of gratitude.
It is your job to tend the stage,
making every transition to and from,
seamless.
I'm young for not seeing it,
and uncomprehending of my gratitude
for your care.