Bez Berry

The Turn of the Quay

 

We’ll return to the Quay

It won’t quite be the same

We’ll be drawn to the place

Just like moths to a flame

The stage will be silent

The moment serene

As the players arrive

And they survey the scene

The dust on the flats

Will arise in the air

As the first actor’s voice

Echoes out like a prayer,

‘True hope is swift

And with swallows’ wings fly’

To paraphrase Shakespeare

This theatre won’t die

It will sound the return

Of a glorious age

As musicians and artists

Return to the stage

And music and laughter

Will once again chime

As the Quay is the key

To a happier time