The Clown

Through white grease paint, He smiles at me, A big exaggerated grin, Giant sunglasses I can see, Fall almost to his chin. The little man in size fourteens, And baggy pantaloons, Most definitely has all the means, To look like a buffoon. But in his chest, his golden heart, Is splintered right in two, And though in pain, he does his part, To forever be the fool. Behind his eyes you see the pain, He carries in his soul, There is no sunshine only rain, Within his heart of gold. Smile though your heart is breaking, Old man in white grease face, And though I know your'e soul is shaking, There is not one, can take your'e place. 5/6/10 29 palms ca.