Wobbly Clowns
Old men.
Silver crowned flowers.
Shriveled crimson bloated noses.
Bow-legged little clowns...
Gait beaten down by time.
Storm-battered greying bows.
Sprinkling life with wisdom's eye.
The joy and sorrow they've spread.
A million times they've laughed and bled.
Yet they battle on and on and on.
To kiss a pair of tiny hands again.
Old men.
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