The Actor Poem by R.A. James

A violet blossoms outside my door,
wearing soft, velvet petals resembling
deep folds of a theatre curtain's velour;
forming a regal backdropp to this scene.
Close up, there is an actor on this set.
A small, black beetle is playing the part,
a stiff-legged and stage-frightened silhouette.
He's read his lines; does he know them by heart?
A warm breeze bends the blossom to the light.
The beetle bows deep and his costume bursts
into blazing colors, brilliantly bright;
rubies and sapphires shine, unrehearsed.

He plays the role like an insect Thespis,
Olivier would be quite envious.