An Ozark’s Star, born during
WWII, on the home front she stood,
two stories tall, courageously.

Mint painted in Art Deco. Vertical, red marquee adorned: “Theatre!” Lights announced Hollywood to town.

Ascend her staircase, just inside. Usher, “Left or right?—balcony awaits.” Local venue of many first dates.

Movie reels spinning. Characters breathe life in Technicolor. Draping velvet framed her stage.

Glance, “Back to the Future” to 1987. “Puttin’ On the Ritz” in style. Hostess of the Ozarks youth.

Prom night, a formal invitation: Become her shining stars. Sashing adolescents, in silk and satin dreams.

Stars fade. Glowing flashbulbs pop. Red carpet affairs subside. Aging flames extinguish. Final bow—curtain call.

Buildings—brick and mortar—bodies, flesh and bone; sharing common ground. Waiting; succumbing to age.

Persons and places are deemed obsolete. Although souls attach and linger. Memories, defining us, remains pristine.

What a longing to be her ticket taker. Oh, to resurrect a fallen star! Travel back, to the future, Show-Me, again, the Star. A vision: grace, touching her Ozark sky.