Sensitivity Poem by David Taylor

Feet elongated past his toes
Funny spherical and red his nose
A flower bright pinned on his coat
Which perhaps squirts water
And makes you soaked
A joke not funny he can tell
A car with parts that fall to the ground
And a loud horn to loudly shout
Get out the way I’m coming round
A painted face most sad
With downcast mouth and ring’ed eyes
That strangely sadness does not disguise
An icon of mirth and fame not wide
Who is he and what does he hide?
A clown you say? Maybe you’re right
Or perhaps he is more close to you
And not so very far from sight?