An Ode to the Open Air Theatre

My recent work saw me at Regent's Park in London. I wrote them something, heh.

From the damp grass they emerge, like a wildebeest surge,

stampeding the gate and always the eventuality of souls, turning up late.

The stage is set, through the dry and wet,

to bring camaraderie, to help set the mind free.

For a normal scenario, is an easy place to go,

so let the seconds turn, into hours where you learn.

Stories of death, love and lust, of lies, betrayal and trust,

from words that weave their way in and moments that shiver the skin.

We ask for your ears and eyes, to lift hearts and circumnavigate demise,

to witness a character's rebirth, then wipe the tears and embrace the mirth.

Drink of the vial of youthful hope, spin your fictional web with unsteady rope,

I ask of them, him and her, to dispute and to concur.

Tangle yourself in tales of woe and watch true love's blossom grow

feel the story-telling from your head to your feet, take in the things you see, the people you meet.

Remember us and hold it close and dear,

The glory of our seasonal, Open Air Theatre.