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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