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3rd Person View-- 

An Audience Ponders On Thoughts Of Curtains. 
Faded Red And Gold, Sweeping The Beat, Dusted Floor; Old, It [[The Floor]] Creaks. 
Upon The Stage Artists Perform For Love. 
From The Crowd, Coins Are Thrown For Help, For Enjoyment Brought.
Hands Creating A Thunder, To Roll Over Heads, And Hearts, Tidal Waves Pulling It To The 
Stage. 
Sound, Touches Ears, The Band Plays. 
Quotes Of Ole' Roll Off Tongues. 
Audience, Watch Listlessly, As The Stage Performs, Then Clears, Like A Disappearing Act 
Into Air. 
The Curtain Pulls Closed, As So Do Eyes, Softly Remembering Faint Memories, In The Actors 
Mind. 
Hidden By Painted Colors Softly Blending On Closed Eye Lids. 
Splashes Of Color Painted On Lips. 
Cloths, Worn Out, Hiding Faded Spots, Slightly Ripped. 
Visions Dancing Behind Eyes, Where The Curtain Was Not Faded, Nor The Gold Ropes Brittle. 
A Time where the lights shone down on the perfect floor. 
Memories of the stage. 
In older times, dancing, ballet; Faces painted white, no words to say; 
Hand crafted props, better, before cardboard was made. 
Art thee not afraid?
A few lines from a play.
Excitement, pored with laughter, A comedy, "touche".
A drama causing tears, on cheeks to lay. 
Pointed toes, rising oh, oh, so high, Dancing together to reach the sky. 
An Act, An Art, Not A circus, of course. 
Days So far away, where every night was a new play, A new life each day. 
Memories, Pictures painted in a vivid color display, 
behind thee actors painted eyes. Memories Of The Stage Lay.

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