Boards, Rails and Good Ghosts

By m.s.wardrip

Slammed to the floor in a fit of rage,

The backstage ghost was vicious,

Never another day would be the same,

Now, a straight smile fronts the pain.

Veronica, the velvet red madam,

Colonious, The radical Roman,

Belugi, The Italian street sweeper,

And Marcus the Great, Colossal Leader of Men!

The surrender is sometime greater than the revolution,

More than two hundred serious transgressions he made,

Thasos was no role model for his kin and tribe,

In fact, it was a triple miracle he was even alive!

Now, we rest among the gentle weeping willow trees by the stream,

It is that we are here by will and destined to imagine what can be and what will be,

Build together, we do, we strum the old banjo as we pass through, carrying baggage,

Disastrous, beautiful, afraid, definitely not the best, it is great fun, and we can still do it.

Back in Belle Rive and according to tradition,

We don’t want to miss the bells,

The peace plan follows,

In the round-about.

The seats fill at the ushers commands,

The lights blink and there is a hush,

The air is velour, the warm music begins,

The curtain wiggles and my heart giggles.

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