The Wizard stood and laughed banally,
"'Tis time," he said "for my finale!"
Turned around and then dropped trou,
With that, he took his one last bow.
The audience - with their glassy stares,
Soulless, did not see his wares.
Silent, deafening applause,
Came none to cheer the actor's cause.
The cards lay still upon the table,
The doves, once winged, to fly unable.
The assistants, once flesh, blood and veins,
Immobile, now skeletal remains.
His bag of tricks were all but gone,
There'd be no more, come one more dawn.
He viewed his patrons, with salt-wet eye,
Muttered, "I was good once, wasn't I?"
Wrapped his cloak about his frame,
And watched the theatre erase his name.
For now he's played his final scene,
Knowing his act was all unseen.
Then with hurried, short footfalls,
He took his place within the stalls.
And like his fellows without number,
He joined them in their sightless slumber.
The magic hat fell from his head,
As he joined the legions of the dead.
Some will see a spirit flit about the forum from time to time. Good luck!