The boy's small face looks up <br />and he calls out for his daddy <br />with all the trust and all the love <br />right there in the little child's eyes. <br /> <br />The lights go down, <br />the spotlight comes on <br />and the trumpets sound. <br />Under the bright light stands <br />the world's greatest clown. <br />He runs around on the stage <br />he stumbles, and he falls, gets up <br />and then falls down again. <br />Looking at the sea in front of him <br />of all the laughing faces, he knows <br />this is where he was born to be. <br />There is happiness <br />in the clown's heart tonight. <br />This is his life's work. <br />His act is now in full swing. <br />The funny faces, <br />the somersaults and laughter, <br />on stage tonight the clown is king. <br /> <br />The boy eaten with fever <br />and ravaged by pain <br />looks up for comfort <br />into his father's face. <br />The clown takes his <br />child in his arms <br />and he begins to pray. <br />But in the child's eyes <br />there is no more light, <br />and in his little chest <br />there is no more breath <br />and in this tiny room <br />where once was joy <br />all that's left is <br />the smell of death. <br /> <br />He leaves the stage <br />with tears down <br />his painted face. <br />But the people cannot <br />see the clown's pain <br />and they cheer and <br />applaud the master <br />who tonight has <br />given them <br />so much pleasure and <br />so much laughter.<br /><br />Chris Zachariou<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-clown-26/
