The Clown

Every day after the show ends,
he sits there in the corner
gazing eternity,
thinking what's in store
for him tomorrow at the show.
People are clapping,cheer him
to death make him laugh at himself.
With dignity and hope he sits there,
eyes closed and murmuring to his soul.
Night comes and he is still
sitting along with his tired soul.
He doesn't feel any pain
for he is the clown.
Everything stops, only the
heart beat of a tired man.

Next day the crowd is waiting
the clown is still there sitting
in the corner, cold as a dead tree.
sitting there in eternal peace.

By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick 2000