Donna Grayson
Poetry and Lyrics

1976 to 1977
Senior Year - High School



My Theatre

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

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