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Poem

The Giraffe Cries 
 
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour

Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar

Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations 

The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises

It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent 
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts

Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding 
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths

The train departs…the giraffe cries

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