The Clown


RainThe Clown

And so the old town clock is winding down.
It’s time to leave the party; say goodbye.
Some souls would rather stay and play the clown.
His fantasies go deep and so he sighs.

He thinks he’s Bogie; somewhere there’s still life.
He’s lonely; haunts the bars for his Bacall.
She’s blonde and does not look much like his wife.
“Hey, better you should go before you fall!”

The bar-keep opens creaking door to vent
the hours of smoke and conversation stale.
A pale and misty rain the mornings sent
so, for this clown, a cabby he must hale.

The blazing light still shocks. He’s out the door…
He knows its time to go before it’s four.

·

, , , , , , ,

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Rantings Of A Third Kind

The Blog about everything and nothing and it's all done in the best possible taste!

%d bloggers like this: