The audience
applauded... clapping loud
Players
on the stage loved the accolade;
They
were rolling...rolling high on a cloud.
Definitely
an ego trip... and very proud;
That
their script had made the grade.
Alas,
horses sped on chariot wheels
And
toted off the film crews reels
They
hacked it in half with snagged tooth,
And
snacked as they ate it for two meals.
The thundering
of their galloping hoof
Plundering
thru' the skies curtain roof
Gave
dread to news with certain proof
The
film was dead..without a trace,
Fed
to ghost horses lost in space.
When
the actors next again appeared
They
had grown a ragged white beard,
The
wind had badly ripped their sails
They
whined on stage to tell sad tales.
Their
forms rewritten.. they improvised;
The
script.. now skipped to be revised.
©
Andrea Jeanne Petersen
Written
January 23, 2004
