The Bells

Today the circus poster is scabbing off the concrete wall and the children have forgotten if they knew at all. Father, do you remember? Only the sound remains, the distant thump of the good elephants, the voice of the ancient lions and how the bells trembled for the flying man. I, laughing, lifted to your high shoulder or small at the rough legs of strangers, was not afraid. You held my hand and were instant to explain the three rings of danger. Oh see the naughty clown and the wild parade while love love love grew rings around me. this was the sound where it began; our breath pounding up to see the flying man breast out across the boarded sky and climb the air. I remember the color of music and how forever all the trembling bells of you were mine.