Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Back then, they called him "simple,"
small town, sometimes small minds.
"A doctor's son," the old women whispered,
arched brows, gaze deeply significant.
"Such a shame! Oh, my!"
I dont know who dressed him in a clown suit
and stood him on the median,
smiling his big clown-grin,
waving at all the passing cars.
But he was proud. He knew that he was
giving joy, creating smiles, adding color and beauty
and lightness to the day.
He gave it freely,
the return of smiles and waves
all that he needed to make his day complete.
We thought him beautiful,
pulled over, had him proudly pose
with his gay balloons.
Sometimes the simplest things
are the most special.
for Poetry Jam where Brian is asking us to write about local characters. This fellow is one I remember from my hometown, years ago. A happy and loving soul. A simply beautiful heart. He used to ride a three wheel bike around town, just spreading the love.