Looking back,
I realize
One cannot lose
What one never had.
Oh, I would be amusing
so you would lend yourself
and, fool that I was,
I would drink from
The Mirage,
refusing to believe
I would ever thirst
again.
Trying to please,
I made myself
your Jester,
dancing on my toes
to make you smile.
Sometimes
it worked.
But,
all too often,
I would trip
and fall upon
My Heart.
Now, thrust before
The Mirror Of Retrospect,
I try , in vain,
to see
The Beauty
of it all.
But all that comes
to My Mind's Eye
is The Reflection
of A Clown
.
.
.
.
.
