The Giraffe Cries

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