Musty, old, dark memories
of lines long since forgot
Faded costumes and decaying jewels
props and scenery fall apart
The smell of wet paint
layered over the old
Old costume jewelery
to precious to be sold
The words a millions actors
must have said
And the tension as the hero
of the play falls dead
Thunderous applause
heard here and not much further
These are all the memories
in my head, of my Theatre
Copyright © Donna Grayson
www.donnagrayson.com