Out yonder window I must run.
Theatre life is calling me.
I�m not the golden fair-haired son,
And I abhor my destiny.
He reads Latin, Ovid, Virgil, and Horace.
I�m meant to darn and stir the pot.
Without literature my heart grows porous,
Betrothed to love, I shall be not.
Out yonder window I begin my journey,
Life�s hard lessons I did learn.
Theatre life had no admittance for me.
The genius of woman alas was spurned.
Shakespeare�s sister�s talent fell on male ears deaf.
Cursed with child, she orchestrated her own death.
*Adapted from Shakespeare�s Sister (a non-fiction piece) by Virginia Woolf