The Frame

Each day for nearly ten years this May
I walked by the same frame each day
In this frame stood a face painted white
A truly hideous thing when it caught your sight
His nose was a bright red ball
As he kept smiling from the wall
A smile as vast as the deep sea
Too much smile, even for me
His hair is a sight for sure
Longer than mine, an eye lure
I never took a look or a glance
Until one Tuesday, it happened by chance
Suddenly the smile was gone, it just disappeared
The happy clown that most had feared
Had simply faded like the sun into the ground
In a moment he just wasn’t around
The weird part of this strange tale
Is the image hadn’t gone stale
I mean his face was burned in my mind
That bitter sight that was one of kind
I saw his ghostly face in a new shade
And in my mind he had stayed
For years I ignored that clown hanging there
Yet the moment he leaves, is the moment I care
How could this be real? How could this be true?
How could something you never noticed affect you?
The saddest part that I have left to say
Is I never really got it until he went away…