The Script

My script is a storyteller
full of the most wonderful words.
It’s ripped on the edges
and curled like my mum’s crazy hair.

My script reminds me of how
much fun SHYAC is.

The pages as white as snow
written the secrets written deep
inside of them.

I can imagine the taste of my script.
It would taste like fresh popcorn
from the theatre, buttered and sweet.

I remember the songs I sang,
the words I read.
It was magical.