Grey damp clouds form the stare of an ageing clown
Disguised by rain, his eyes slowly bleed tears
Below his bulk, salty pools now gather, reflecting his broken past
Brushed white smears of ill applied make up, violently deface the sky
The mirrored floor a silent witness as he slides across the heavens
His painted red grin, heavy with history and the weight of time
Serves as a hinged mask which slams shut every offer of help
Every page of neatly folded tricks he once stored in his cotton sleeves
Have now retreated to dust, escaping on the circling winds
Big coloured buttons stitched with a narrow thread of hope
Glossy discs that pulse amongst the rips of dirty silk
A distant voice produces the curve of a lucid rainbow
Interwoven in its smooth veneer comes the promise of love
A once thick oily sea now dances wild with animation
Offering a slippery hand, a giddy path back to happiness
Puffed White gloves stoop to accept an uncertain journey of hope
In full glare of an industrial sun, heard to pump out volumes of warmth
The over sized shoes of a happy clown, skilfully balances on an inflated planet we call earth
Every star links to create an illuminated big top
Shining brighter than ever, they start a standing ovation that will never stop..
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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