Night Tells Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

They tell us now to seize the day
And pirouette through hours
It's true the day's indeed a stage
But it's the night that tells

In dawn's fair light we don our masks
Pomading hair in twists
We wrap ourselves in linen robes
Gold bordered, swathed with pearls

By midday audiences throng
As we proceed to dance
White orchids land upon our feet
From clapping, shouting fans

Then evening comes and curtains drop
Their deep red velvet veils
Our makeup greasy now and pale
Fine costumes ripped and worn

Then night falls on our wrinkled beds
Unfit to view on stage
Klieg lights transform to barest bulbs
On ceilings cracked with age

Then slumber numbs out all the jazz
And glories of the day
Masks comic and of tragic mien
Transform to monster size

At last a strange and haunting star
Shines through the dusty panes
Of one small window in our flat
As we succumb to sleep

That's when the one who backs the play
Decides what's wheat, what's chaff
For days are stages filled with props
But it's the night that tells.