deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stage Lights
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 memories they meant.
It was a time my fam’ly did their act,
From mawkish plays, bombastic parodies.
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, indiff’rently.
It all seemed comical I’d lose a page,
My future I foresaw in spite my age.
The sibling troopers watched wide-eyed in fear,
For Dad, too many years, he never quit.
His work would energize his love of lights.
My hand in his we left the stage door nights.
Where people went to pay and sing along,
To laugh at jokes and cry at sentiment,
Retell for years the memories they meant.
It was a time my fam’ly did their act,
From mawkish plays, bombastic parodies.
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, indiff’rently.
It all seemed comical I’d lose a page,
My future I foresaw in spite my age.
The sibling troopers watched wide-eyed in fear,
For Dad, too many years, he never quit.
His work would energize his love of lights.
My hand in his we left the stage door nights.
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