A Ghostly Show
Empty of its audience, red, plush velvet seats;
Sorrowful, in mourning.
No more echoes of applause,
the opening of a grandeur curtain,
Just a ghostly appearance,
Breathing in the past.
Dusty stage lights,
Cobwebbed orchestra,
Costumes bleeding out their vibrany; silently decaying.
What do you call a stage
without a captivating drama?