Little one blonde haired aged not yet six
Intelligent perception innocent o’ life tricks
Daughter’s insight seen, but never captured
Heart felt shall always be most enraptured.
Hand in hand dressed in Sunday best
Desired to bring happiness guessed
Wee One, to the circus I taketh thee
‘Dad’, says She. ‘For what to see?’
Ringmaster dressed in finery to start
Ponies with feathers pulling fancy cart
Clowns and mimes and multitude of dance
Magicians performing acts of great chance!
Lions roaring briefly uncaged safe restrained
Elephants, horses, people; all there trained
Under the big top cloaked in canvass grand
Three rings of circus built on the sand!
‘Really?’ She asked, somewhat sad of eye
‘Of course!’ honest was the senior reply
‘Oh, Dad! Can’t we just play catch instead?’
‘Seen all that at the church service led.’
Blonde haired Wee One eyes of blue
Sunrisen rainbows of heart colour true
Catch we played and hide an’ seek
Lamb enlightened to ‘lion’ meek.
Boilers on the circus engine
Cold without stoked vision
Behind the big top pretense
Eloquence masking sense.
Crowds left to money paid
Circus inhabitants duty staid
Caged each, animal and trained
Carousing, beyond conjugal strained….
Little One tucked safe in bed
Contented with a story read
Worrisome my thought refrain
Those departing on the Circus Train.