The stepchild in me learned so much I never asked to know.
Misery has a way of sharing its cookies.
The ones that taste like circus clowns’ shoes instead of the
sweet vanilla circus animal ones.
Some secrets are well known.
Others are hidden deep,
like pennies and bauble
charms at the bottom of a well.
Carelessness and wishful thinking don’t always get you too
far in the right direction.
No matter who you are!
You learn that one after the fall from the trapeze, not just
sitting to watch the show.
Silence was my virtue; my circus act that I knew many a man
could not have done.
For I was never a spokesperson for anyone until poetry spoke
to me.
Giving me gauze, tape, and scissors for a wound that should
have been healed.
A hurt that should have never been.
Eventually I moved, I was gone like an Oldsmobile and a
teenager at the wheel.
Singing the lyrics to Birdland by Patti Smith I loaded up my
car.
Little did I know as I backed out of the drive,
I brought everything I had meant to leave behind.
Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List. This week she is featuring Cathy Day and her Book The Circus in Winter.
Come join us!
Also linking with the Muse.