Could it be mortal men live on
In a world of imagination
Playing parts forever unreal?
Those quintessential thespians
Condemned eternally to repeat
Frequented reruns, their lively past
They touch generations closely
Yet never drew a breath with them
The first to have gone to sleep
To know of a person seen aware
Still in fact they slumber e'er
A legacy of acts and words
Once great sex symbols flaunting
Grew old, feeble, and departed
But on the screen they remained
All in the matinee marvelous
Death, their great equalizer
Tends to the reels of fickle fate
Their voices echo on, cinematic
Though flesh has slipped away
Cheating reality's claim of stillness
The valiant taste death but once
Yet for them reminded of aging
It came too late and yet replays