The Death of a Clown

The Death of a Clown

The noise of the crowd has gone,

All of the lights are out only one light left on,

The spot light in the center ring...

In creeps a little shadow, shoulders hunched

Head hung down; he came in with a song he sings.

The smell of hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy, covered not his pain,

Even the smell off saw dust and smells of animals discarded waste did remain.

He lifted his head and removes his hat and bows to the invisible crowd

Turning in a slow circle, holding his top hat up, once again and just as before, took a bow.

A gaudy grotesque smile painted on his ominous little face,

On his top coat lapel he wears an oversized jubilant (unlike he) flower he grace.

A touching sight was he, and somewhere in his head his music starts to play,

First slowly than louder and louder it grows, as his contorted little body, begins to sway.

He dances and turns, he raises his face, then a tear, one lone tear, owe no dear clown,

You must not cry be merry, hear the cheers, no tears for the crowd don’t frown.

We’ve come to cheer you, as we cheered you all along; they come to cheer you out loud.

Sad and lonely you came, know not we, your name, please stand and once again, take your bow.

Just as he lifted his head, he dropped it once again and his top, hat he placed back on his head,

Spun and walked away, as his sad face proclaimed his day, as the invisible crowd continued pleading his stay.

Leona A. Smith

 All copyrights Reserved to the author of this poem.