Huge eyes that crossed the seas,
Looking, looking. Was it for me?
I have hidden. The rage of emotions in his face,
Blood streaming tears angrily been replaced.
A meddlesome bother, sleepy-eyed, but wide awake,
Searching for answers snatching hold the least mistake.
Marshmallow cream cone, he says drink. DRINK.
Tastes so good, but I have lost my mind. I can no longer think.
Things changing. Many people gather faces a pasty white,
Smiles no longer real, but a clown’s permanent delight.
“Clap. Clap. The show is nigh. Come one come all,
See the sheltered human as she reaches her downfall.”
Tall. Taller looking a giant. No. Taller was he,
A mass of makeup a nose of red, aye and maybe 10 ft 3.
“Out of his way people, move lest you feel his wrath,
Pick it up, toss it about, anything in his footpath.”
The smaller one awaited catching the victims retreat,
Bind them hand and foot, drink, drink, nothing to eat.
It mattered little. Hot shells and bluebird wings,
A batch of chicken seed, give them most anything.
No longer human devouring Marshmallow cream,
Clowns in an eternal circus on the airwaves a scream.
Who would know? Who could tell with their pasty white smiles?
“Come one, come all, come forever, not just a little while.
© Cynthia Clark