Back in the day when vaude’ville was in town
Where people went to pay and sing along,
To laugh at jokes and cry at sentiment,
Retell for years the mem’o’ries they meant.
It was a time my fam’ly did their act,
From mawkish plays, bombastic satirize.
Where all the members each would have a part,
To photoplay enactments, donkey carts.
In time, I was the baby of the troop.
Born on a stage in Portmanteau, P.A.,
A trunk in which of course became my bed,
“Is where she lives!”, Dad laughing as he said.
The headlines read “Was born inside a trunk”.
The fam’ly wasted no time with my size.
At two of age I sang and danced the game,
I was the ticket to our rising fame.
But as I grew, I overheard the talk,
I stuck to my routines, insouciant.
It all seemed risible I’d loose a page,
My future I’d descry in spite my age.
The sibling troopers watched & timorous.
For Dad, too many years, he never quit,
His work would enervate his love of lights.
My hand in his we left the stage door nights.
Copyright©️2018 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
Written by Jade-Pandora
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