The tent of love is fragile, but a refuge from
the world of storm that swirls about it’s ropes and stakes.
The supports strain and squeal, warn of failure
but the show goes on, in spite of the warnings.
Then, love, under siege from the storm seeks refuge.
Stop the show! Call in the clowns! If the clowns come in
the storm will vanish. I deny it’s there. If so, then
who is the clown? What happens when the tent collapses,
the show stops and the clowns don’t appear?  I am
alone amidst the  props I thought were real.
I was real, love was real but for now it’s
over until the next show.