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HIGH WIRE

5 January, 2013

Broken clowns with tears and frowns

The circus has its ups and downs

The flat store shills are all so sad

The flim flams never felt so bad.

 

The feathers of the dancing girls

that flashed in spotlights as they whirled

are drooping now in dampness furled

by glistening teardrop moistened pearls.

 

Lord!  He was brave — no one walked higher

nor looked so handsome on the wire.

Full ninety feet above the ground

above the breathless, gaping crowd.

 

“I walk a narrow path,” he’d say,

“a silver path that swings and sways.

Before each step I take, I pray

that God will show my feet the way.”

 

Now silent is the empty ring

below the shining, silver string,

and empty are the bleachers where

they watched his brief flight through the air.

 

Standing in a shadowed corner,

left behind by other mourners,

clutching to her heart and breast

a poster saying “See The Best”.

 

Yes!  He was brave — no one walked higher

nor looked so handsome on the wire.

Full ninety feet above the crowd,

full 90 feet down to the ground.

 

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From → Stories & Poetry

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