by Laurie Razor
April 1st. NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Entry.
|His hat aloft on crooked crown,
this Queen's fool busks for bread.
No patrons come, he soon may drown
in sunbeams, turning red.
He juggles bats on grayed concrete.
Thick greasepaint masks his tears.
He cannot mend his aching feet.
They've been that way for years.
He performs in the summer heat,
not nothing keeps him down.
It matters not that he can't eat.
Applaud this sad old clown.
His offspring fill his weary head
whilst others drown their fears.
He's prideful of the life he's led.
Their jeering's all he hears.
But hopeful is this ancient fool,
of future enterprise.
This prankster's brood follows his school
of fun or otherwise.
He will pester his ancestor,
that old Jester from Algester!