THE THEATRE
His Majesty's – resplendent:
it shimmers and seduces.
We want to be within
this cloud-white shiny doll's house.
William Wallace coaxes us to meet beneath its dome,
where fertile minds must surely come to flower.
A goddess also beckons
above the building's highest tier;
she holds a mask beside her heart
and offers us this promise:
here is a hemisphere of mirth,
imagination's cradle.
The little chequered windows
arranged right round the structure
are not for peering out of:
in this place of dreams,
no-one wants to break the magic spell.
John Easton
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