At this point I should mention that one of the props in our show was the wing of a dead bird (you need to have seen the show to know why). Anywho, our esteemed Assistant Director, Kevin mad a joking comment as he picked up the wing one day. He said that someone should write a poem about the wing entitled "Ode to a Wing." This provided a laugh backstage as him and our Director, John batted around a few lines of prose for this hypothetical poem.
To cut a long story short, I was bored and decided to actually write a poem dedicated to this wing, and here it is just for you, Kev. It is called simply "Wing."
WING
Collecting shells on the beach,
The sun glaring in his eye.
His arms were full to bursting,
As he passed the poor thing by.
He tripped and stumbled and fell,
Face down into the sand.
He raised his head and saw,
The thing there, close at hand.
It was grey and white and fluffy,
But gave off quite a stink.
He stayed there, eyes affixed,
He needed time to think.
He thought, “It’s just too perfect,
This wonderfully simple thing!
But where’s the rest of its body?
It’s nothing but a wing!”
He packed the shells into his car,
And laid the wing on top.
He couldn’t wait to get it home,
He’d found the perfect prop!
At the theatre in the morn,
He burst right through the door.
“Behold what I have brought you,
To boost esprit de corps!”
“This wing is perfect for our show,
Of meaning it is rife.
It’s the ideal depiction,
Of a bird that gave its life!”
We soon began to love it,
As we used it in our play.
He had found this thing for us,
This wing of white and grey.
Although this thing had come from death,
Of pigeon, gull or crow.
It soon became a shining light,
The feathered beacon of our show!
I hope you all enjoyed this little journey and I'll speak to you all fairly soonish. BYE!!! x
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