She’ll wear sequined tights and a spandex body suit
Flying overhead to perch on next to nothing
And if there is a nugget of fear that sticks in her throat
The crowd will never see past the smile
That defies gravity
Or maybe she’ll canter ringwise
Standing bentkneed on thundering rumps
Whose flashing hooves punctuate the roar of the crowd
And promise danger in the offing
When she runs away to join the circus
All bets are off
But the grand parade might just live up to its promise
David Trudel © 2013
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