The Flame

i've checked all my numbers
and there is no doubt
that slowly but surely
my flame's dying out

whatever was in me
that creative spark
has grown very weak
and soon will be dark

all the strange worlds
where i used to play
its scares me to see
them going away

and so too the actors
of my mind's eye
are exiting the stage
and waving goodbye

"come back... come back!"
i try to shout
but they're leaving for good
there is no doubt

all of the sets
and all of the props
of my imagination
will soon be forgot

and though their loss
is nothing so sad
sometimes these unreal things
were all that i had

so i bid adieu
to my phantom friends
and pray for the day
my flame's bright again

-- don