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That Which Autumn Leaves

by Ian Whiteley

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That Which Autumn Leaves

 

The clowns were funny in the ring,

as they joked and tumbled and fell -

but in the camp, after the show,

they made our young lives hell.

Still in their masks of garish paint

and drunk on Vodka shots,

they cut and bruised and beat us,

hatching cruel, twisted plots.

 

I never saw the demons

lurking safe behind the masks

...

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Tuesday 14th May 2013 11:50 am

killer clowns   caravan   circus   redemption   guilt   narrative poem   autumn

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