The Show Must Go On
Physics is ultra boring, and yet ultra inspiring at times... Sometimes all I can think to do in that class, besides playing Snake (thanks Eric), is to write silly little poems. Going through all my school stuff (hooray for the end of the year!), I found one poem that wasn't so silly.
The audience filed in like normal
The ushers' false smiles shone like normal
There was no difference in the way women lined up outside the restroom
The excitement was still undulating through the crowd
The Playbills had the same witty ads in the same places
The orchestra still warmed up like it always had
And as the overture began
And the curtain flew up
And the acting drew laughter from the audience
Everything appeared to be the same.
There was no visible difference in the theatre to the untrained eye
It was as it always had been.
And yet as she sat quietly
Seeing the performance through silent tears
She knew already... It would never really be the same.
She glanced to the left, at the aisle seat
Where it had always been his legs folded, scrunched to fit
There was an empty chair
Where his pre-show whistles had normally filled her simultaneously
With annoyance and love
She only felt sorrow
To be in a familiar place
Without the normal guide, love
Is to be in a strange place altogether.
I miss my favorite actor and theatre-goer. I miss you beyond anything I could ever write in physics class. Wherever you are, if you see this, help me, help dad, help grandma. Help our shows go on. Because they must.
Afterall, you always taught us that there's no business like show business. Or was it the shoe business? I miss you and your FULL-A-BOLOGNA jokes. But most of all, I miss going to the theatre with you. Sharing those trips with you has shaped me forever.
I love you grandpa.
-your sheikh of arabique [wnpo]
The audience filed in like normal
The ushers' false smiles shone like normal
There was no difference in the way women lined up outside the restroom
The excitement was still undulating through the crowd
The Playbills had the same witty ads in the same places
The orchestra still warmed up like it always had
And as the overture began
And the curtain flew up
And the acting drew laughter from the audience
Everything appeared to be the same.
There was no visible difference in the theatre to the untrained eye
It was as it always had been.
And yet as she sat quietly
Seeing the performance through silent tears
She knew already... It would never really be the same.
She glanced to the left, at the aisle seat
Where it had always been his legs folded, scrunched to fit
There was an empty chair
Where his pre-show whistles had normally filled her simultaneously
With annoyance and love
She only felt sorrow
To be in a familiar place
Without the normal guide, love
Is to be in a strange place altogether.
I miss my favorite actor and theatre-goer. I miss you beyond anything I could ever write in physics class. Wherever you are, if you see this, help me, help dad, help grandma. Help our shows go on. Because they must.
Afterall, you always taught us that there's no business like show business. Or was it the shoe business? I miss you and your FULL-A-BOLOGNA jokes. But most of all, I miss going to the theatre with you. Sharing those trips with you has shaped me forever.
I love you grandpa.
-your sheikh of arabique [wnpo]