The year turns dark
and you turn blue,
feel cold and down–

sometimes it helps
when there appears a clown
or two.

once you’ve received those sent-in clowns,
and find
the smiles and satisfaction
that you hoped to find
did not quite
warm you wholly through–

so you live still
a little bit in hell–

breathe and be
just where and how
and who you are,
and make
a little wish upon a star,
and if you’ve got one, ring also
a little bell. . .

For, who can tell?
The angels may come flocking
to your call,
and they could maybe have the wherewithal,
in cases where the clowns
all by themselves
won’t do.

This entry was posted in Autumn, Be, Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Winter and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s