The Clown and The Bard
A poem by May Flowers
There once was a performer. Their name, face, and life long lost to time. A smiling clown, who brought joy to all. Their jokes and jests, beloved en masse. A smiling soul, forever unchanged. They never shed a tear, nay let their voice raise. Instead they would play the night away. Dancing and singing till the moon went to rest. Iconic, untainted, never lived a hard day. Truly a mystery how the clown simply vanished. There once was a performer. An entire identity, gone without a trace. A humble bard, who very few knew. Their songs and stories, crafted with care. Shared only with those they truly held dear. A soul who hid themselves from the night and day. Oh how they longed to share their tales with the world. But low, fear intertwined to the heart aching with pain. Alas, the poor bard, falling silent and frail. Passed away, with no fanfare to their departure. There once was a performer. Few knew who they were. To ask would be to learn of two different tales. One of the clown, and that of the bard.
