A Stage Full of Memories

I stood on the stage,

My stage,

The one where I have performed since I was a child. Standing in the lights that have always lit my face, looking to the dark wings where I used to whisper as I waited to go on. This wood that knows my touch, my voice, my songs, my secrets. 

This stage that will soon be torn down,

Emptied out. 

Turned into something new.

"I'm not ready,"

I said to the curtains and the seats that bang back and forth.

They only sighed in reply,

Weary with age.

How is it that I am never ready?

As if these memories would dissolve

As the building falls to the ground.

If this structure is gone,

Do all of those moments still matter?