[The following trip to the Playerless Theatre has been kindly shared with us by Happy Cow's good friend Simon Drew. When he is not busy falling in love, Simon can be found stumbling in 15, tripping in 30, plunging in 40 and running the online groups English Stuff and H.A.T.S.T.A.N.D.(O.N.). If your stage is not yet empty, why not show your appreciation by clicking on the 'Like' button at the bottom below. Enjoy!]
Hand of black and hand of white
grips on grass and holds it tight
hand of cream and hand of tan
Clutching onto falling sand
walking in the rain under the moon
following lights and shadows
a moment breathed before the storm
respiratory echoes
spires, dark shapes against a blackened sky
snow flakes on the window sill
your eyes burning deep and bright
in dreams that die and are reborn
dreaming the dreamer anew each day
a new player for the endless play
though the curtains have not been drawn
acting on an empty stage
lines read out from the page
and in those lines the writer writ
of a writer devoid of wit
of emptiness and no design
and absence of the writer's writer
never growing faster lighter
but devoid of weight and mass and motion
and nothing in the dull commotion
and signs left in the signing room
next to buckets, bits and broom.
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