Heart of a Clown

By Glynn

As I sift through the sawdust of my own mind

There are places I still search for yet to find

Whenever the circus trains would travel through our town

I would always ask or sometimes plea, "But where are the clowns?"

Middle-aged men garnished to a ghoul grey white

The children's laughter is tarnished ~ some turn away in fright

Rosy red lips rouged to an upside-down frown

Once more I plea, could you tell where are the clowns?

Some months ago I met this child in the early hours of the morn

She made me laugh then smiled ~ I knew then how a clown's heart was born

It's not what's in the clothes or costume or how you play the part

It's the affection we give one another with the gold that's in our heart.

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