the aging star

it's a crowded night
at wolf trap. it's hot and steamy.
blankets are positioned,
chairs and food.
we've come to see another aging
star
gone grey,
but still a gem, a bright light,
his voice
unchanged,
steady and smooth.
running on empty, he's not.
he plays his hits.
the pretender,
doctor my eyes
and songs you've never heard.
he talks politics but knows
when to stop
and begin another song.
the crowd, as old as he is,
is polite.
some whistles, clapping when a
song begins or when
it ends.
we linger in our chairs, stretch
out,
hold hands and steal
a kiss under the stars.
we pour wine.
but then it's time. time to go.
the finale plays on
and on
as we stream towards the cars,
out to the lot to go home.
happy to have been there,
making a memory that will be
stored and savored
in future years.