A young beau peeks between
the branches
of the old willow tree
To see his maiden's reflection
Bathing before the Gods
Bearing her body
Touched with soft light
Gentle winds push her irresistible locks
Suddenly he is there
Standing before her
Brought out from behind
By lover's trace
He stood before her
Shielding himself from the Gods
When his maiden spoke
In hushed tones

*"Come. Let us wash those sins away."

They had drinks every night
The clown and the trapeze man
Before every show the same thing

"I never laugh at my own jokes." The clown would say

"I never miss my mark." The trapeze man would come back with

So I sat in the crowd
Watching the two perform
Silent and still

The next night

"I never laugh at my own jokes."
"I never miss my mark."

But this night, the tent was different

As the trapeze man danced through the air
The clown found a match and set fire to his net
Stone-faced the clown looked up above as his friend would never miss his mark

When suddenly...
He did

The trapeze man began falling to the earth as though he had missed Her sweet crust

...silence fell.

I sat still.
I sat silent.

Then the clown....
The clown began to laugh....

You must be
so embarrassed

You're not a tree
Not a single leaf could fall from you
Yet you stand proudly in the forest

How silly you must seem
To all the real trees
As you stand there and plee

"I'M A TREE! I AM A TREE!"

Then where are your roots?
Because you're running
Then where is your shade?
If you have any.

You must be
so embarrassed

You're not a tree.
You're a lamppost.
Someone else gives you life.
While a tree produces its own.