The Circus

I don’t know what to look at first,
The juggling, the clowns or the high wire.
Everything seems to happen at once,
Engulfed in the smoke from the ring of fire.

The juggling balls go up and down,
The clowns run past with their smiling frowns,
The high wire shakes as she looks to the ground,
While laughing and screaming goes on all around.

A juggling ball slips from the hand,
A clown trips over and lands in the sand,
She slips from the wire, in a net she lands,
A loud gasp resounds from throughout the stands.

The world stops but the colours still surge,
Fear instils and chaos unfurls,
Inside everything crashes and burns,
On the surface she’s a composed girl.