Oddments

In search of story


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April 28.20: Coping

I know it’s just pretend,

a world contrived for stage,

but I want to see some people,

some over-easy eggs.

Those stools were made for twirling,

the mustard made to squirt,

the door was made for swinging,

but they’re eerily inert.

The world’s a stage, the poet said,

for fools to strut and fret;

that may be so but still we miss

the people for the set.

 

 

And so, dear reader, we bungle on without people on our sets.

I hope you endure.

With thanks to photographer S.W. Berg

and, of course, to The Bard.