As waves perambulated towards the white sands of the toasted beach, we strolled down the boardwalk viewing the hotels & sun bathers, little expecting the chain of circumstances that were about to descend on all of us from those green misted hills. Looking back at it all, the sun drenched mayhem was a cool dip in blue waters & laughter, to be treasured with the frantic postcards sent to folks at home.
Postcard messages –
layered lines of joy ‘n dread sink;
such sweet memories.
Another minuscule mystery haibun in the manner of Claudia McGill.
A modern staging of “come back, little Sheba” was planned, but things happened along the way. The art director’s strange disappearance complicated things – the muffled screams during late night rehearsals left the backers disinclined to provide further needed capital, ah, that’s the theatre life….
exiting stage left –
these players are mere shadows,
watch, the curtain falls.