A groundling stands on the ground

Staring up at the stage

They can see the heavens when they are close

But they stand closer to Hell

A penny paid for the show

To stand on the ground and see the players

But this groundling is spellbound

The play is beautifully written

The writer, their idol is the star

Perfection in the Globe

After the play the groundling waits

Waiting for their lover at the tiring house door

The playwright exits through the door

Pulls the groundling, his lover, into his arms

"For me?"

"For you"

The groundling could have watched backstage

With stolen kisses while his lover was with him

But chose instead

To stare up at a familiar visage

Through the eyes of others

Yet found him just as appealing

The groundling is now known to be

Shakespeare's own fey lover in disguise

And ladies sigh in disappointment

As the lover steals his own master

Of poetry and poetic lines away