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| Botero |
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| Botero |
They shared a drink,
The trapeze artist and the showman.
I love you. Take to the
high wire no more,
he begged. She laughed,
I never miss my mark.
And said no more.
The crowd watched on,
The showman handsome in tails,
whip in hand.
While the trapeze artist wore
white tights
and her little pink dress.
Poised high above,
she glanced down.
As she had done, night after night
to find her showman.
And gracing the air,
she let go.
But all she could see,
the whip lying on the ground.
And all she could feel,
a breeze... the tent wide open.
In that moment,
she missed her mark.
And said no more.
The trapeze artist and the showman.
I love you. Take to the
high wire no more,
he begged. She laughed,
I never miss my mark.
And said no more.
The crowd watched on,
The showman handsome in tails,
whip in hand.
While the trapeze artist wore
white tights
and her little pink dress.
Poised high above,
she glanced down.
As she had done, night after night
to find her showman.
And gracing the air,
she let go.
But all she could see,
the whip lying on the ground.
And all she could feel,
a breeze... the tent wide open.
In that moment,
she missed her mark.
And said no more.
© the dishonest woman
