Ode To Opus

I survey the rubble of what used to be —

the old majestic theater where we bared our souls

and were revered by young and old.

I await the Fire Marshall

gripped by pain and sorrow

crying inside for the treasures

we have lost — the costumes and memorabilia —

photographs and play books.

Charred years of history and memories

whisked away by fire and hoses.

I sigh as I wade through this wasteland

and plan — to begin again.

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About sandrabranum

I'm a philosopher, dreamer, poet, writer -- not necessarily in that order -- and I get to write it all down and share it with the world thanks to the Wonderful World Wide Web!
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