The Circus
THE CIRCUS
“What is in the tent?”
Asks the child to her father.
“It’s a circus dear.
Let’s go there, little feather.”
What is there in pretending?
The circus clown smiles.
The ringmaster yells.
Cloud nine is a disguise.
“What is he making?”
They have now come out.
“These are corn dogs, honey.
Look! He has made a mound.”
The man takes the sticky meat.
The tingly batter covers it.
The oil simmers.
His finger; he burns it.
“What is that?”
They walk on,
“That’s a monkey, darling.
Look at it sprawl.”
It rubs its furry face.
It twitches and whimpers.
The whip strikes;
It is the receiver.
“Are you all right?”
The father asks the mother.
“Very well,
You needn’t bother.”
Their daughter’s time in life….
The mother could only pray.
“Mum, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing angel”, my heart says.
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