The final act

The book was thick and black,
Her precious manuscripts it held,
And, covered with dust it was,
Along with it, her dreams withered.

She trudged along to the attic,
Its boards were bowed and creaking,
Rummaging through the boxes,
She found her past, from them, peeking.

Straining she brought, a smile to her lips,
With a heavy heart, struggled to let go,
As she lay down for a brief respite,
She then knew, it was time to end her show.