Grand Circus Poem by A.B. Black Waltz

The people crowd the streets
As they see painted faces pass by
Little men roll as maidens prance
As the circus master invites them
To the fortress of unseen talents

A clown, the clown is smiling
Yet he hides his face behind the paint
Hiding from the paint and that eerie smile
His eyes are blunt and depressed
I expected radiance, glitter and shimmer

Fire, there is the hot fire
As a woman spits it out for amusement
She speaks with her mouth to her lover
Caught him prancing with other maidens
He was burned with her fire

The tamer grew up with his lion
He grewup with the king; his bestfriend
Yet he seemed superior to his majesty
The king has been dethrowned
By a friend, is he really a friend?

The young boy, a mere young boy
Looked at the circus with awe
He thought of joining the merry men
The danger, the happiness, he thought of it
Just to give pleasure to people and to himself