Off the bus, he darted to the door,
Surprising his mum, as the clock struck four;
He was early, and by an hour, no less,
A tad tired, yet full of eagerness;
Having grabbed the cookie of the counter,
He turned to his mum, grinning at her;
When his excitement he could no longer save,
What ensued was a verbal wave;
His teacher, without stretching the time for play,
Had ensured it was the boy’s best school day;
The class had embarked on a trip to the circus,
The outing, though unexpected, had been joyous;
The boy set out to describe the scene,
Using gestures, when words wouldn’t fit in;
The class had been held in awe,
And the crowd had watched agape,
As the daredevil defied the law,
By soaring in his bright cape.
A tenuous film it did form, did the breeze,
One conducive for a fearless swim,
She’d made it seem thus, the belle on the trapeze,
When she somersaulted on whim.
Next up, it was the blindfolded knife-thrower,
Who strived to miss his target by a hair strand;
His aide, she had not let the tension lower,
Relieved, the audience did give him a hand.
Everyone, then, watched the lion play cat,
And the jumbo play football,
Before performers, on unicycles sat,
Rode a flimsy wire, avoiding the fall.
But the best act, the boy said, had been the interlude,
When the stage belonged to an ace;
He had doled out what seemed to elude,
The smile on the people’s face.
‘I want to grow up to be a clown’ –
The lad averred prior to a silent prayer;
He wished to gift smiles to the town,
And be its glee purveyor.
His mum pronounced the amen,
Pleased by his dream of being a laughter maven.
Much later, in the night, after the family retired,
He woke up faced with a dilemma –
Would the town ever smile before he comes to be admired?
Had he cast a dire anathema?
But he soon regained the smile that'd let him repose,
As he recalled the painted face and the red nose.
Surprising his mum, as the clock struck four;
He was early, and by an hour, no less,
A tad tired, yet full of eagerness;
Having grabbed the cookie of the counter,
He turned to his mum, grinning at her;
When his excitement he could no longer save,
What ensued was a verbal wave;
His teacher, without stretching the time for play,
Had ensured it was the boy’s best school day;
The class had embarked on a trip to the circus,
The outing, though unexpected, had been joyous;
The boy set out to describe the scene,
Using gestures, when words wouldn’t fit in;
The class had been held in awe,
And the crowd had watched agape,
As the daredevil defied the law,
By soaring in his bright cape.
A tenuous film it did form, did the breeze,
One conducive for a fearless swim,
She’d made it seem thus, the belle on the trapeze,
When she somersaulted on whim.
Next up, it was the blindfolded knife-thrower,
Who strived to miss his target by a hair strand;
His aide, she had not let the tension lower,
Relieved, the audience did give him a hand.
Everyone, then, watched the lion play cat,
And the jumbo play football,
Before performers, on unicycles sat,
Rode a flimsy wire, avoiding the fall.
But the best act, the boy said, had been the interlude,
When the stage belonged to an ace;
He had doled out what seemed to elude,
The smile on the people’s face.
‘I want to grow up to be a clown’ –
The lad averred prior to a silent prayer;
He wished to gift smiles to the town,
And be its glee purveyor.
His mum pronounced the amen,
Pleased by his dream of being a laughter maven.
Much later, in the night, after the family retired,
He woke up faced with a dilemma –
Would the town ever smile before he comes to be admired?
Had he cast a dire anathema?
But he soon regained the smile that'd let him repose,
As he recalled the painted face and the red nose.
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