It was called ‘The Big Top’ so
I expected size and glitz and glamour
but it was small and tawdry inside.
I expected glamorous girls riding bareback
not these surly unsmiling performers.
It was not like the circus of my dreams
where the unicorns were prancing,
flashing their rainbowed hooves,
pointing with their golden horns.
With sequinned swimsuited riders
they danced round and round
the circle of the ring
kicking up the gold dust ground
from their droppings into
not that dirty looking soil
where no unicorn could find the gold
to nurture and replenish
their unique golden horns.
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Find Lynn at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts and https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com