The Swinging Circus
Author: Phonicpodd


The lady standing in the pouring rain,
Bought a ticket for the last train,
She looks at me as she waves goodbye,
I see my shadow in the corner light,

I twiddle my thumbs on the way by,
I count the steps with a steady eye,
Whats that noise, am I too high,
The branches turn with the green sky,

I look up to see a different world,
My mind too small to see the circus girls,
The trapeeze swinger hanging from a branch,
Swings down and slaps my hand with a stamp,

Little people swinging from the trees,
Making parachutes from dead leaves,
The lovers dance as they make their way,
Through a colony of marching parades,

Their playing hymns on a blade of grass,
The jester sings while the king laughs,
He must have missed her as she walked away,
She turned her head as she cursed this day,

The clowns laugh with their painted smiles,
Dropping laughter so I watch for a while,
I fade away in the bright lights,
They take a bow as they bid goodnight,

I wake up in the pouring rain,
I hear the whistle of a leaving train,
I bid fairwell to the lady in red,
The circus hymns still playing in my head.


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