Cell phones not quite silenced;
Playbills get perused.
Bathroom needs attended to;
Latecomers excused.
Cough drops start unwrapping;
Jackets drape on laps.
Hands relax anticipating
Lots of fervent claps.
Watches are consulted;
Ushers stroll the aisles.
Tourists glance around to note
The New York City styles.
Lights at last are dimming;
Conversations cease.
Finally, it’s time to let
The actors say their piece.
You're my cup of coffee
I feel delighted whenever i'm dreaming
With you my one and only
My dreams whenever I get up at morning.
It started out like this
A room full of playbills
It looked like a room
Ready to be filled with dreams.
Then a subject after that,
We are to make a shirt out of art.
You were in your uniform clothing
You top it off with a black something.
You looked serious
Enough to look gracious.
You looked mysterious
Enough to look precious.
My mind now imagine
A sight called dream
With a guy making a drink
A drink made out of coffee beans.
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