Laughter the Clown

By: Lydia Crow


Laughter sits there in his flat,
Cigarette in hand,
Cheeks now sunken, eyes now dead,
No longer much a man.

The crowds of giggling schoolgirls
Are married now, or dead.
It’s been some time since any of them
Shared his lonely bed.

He sees their teenage daughters
Sometimes in the street,
Eyes just like their mothers,
And easy, cheap and sweet.

He sighs and lights another,
There’s not much to be done
But wonder where it went so wrong,
Wonder when it stopped being fun.

Once he was the life and soul,
Loved by everyone.
But he couldn’t change, he couldn’t grow,
And they left him one by one.

All the clowns have gone now,
Grown up and gone away.
Leaving Laughter on his own
To face his end of days.

Alone he now lingers,
Inside his withered, haggard cage,
Dreaming of the laughter
Of those hazy, golden days.


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