The party had fizzled into a foul mood.
The kids were all cranky, unruly, and rude.
When all trace of patience they’d tied up in knots,
In clumped an old clown wearing pink polka dots.
Unmoved by his manner, they grumbled like pros.
They jeered all his jokes and his giant red nose.
He took it in stride, beaming smiles at their shots,
And poked humble fun at his pink polka dots.
And then—only then—was the wonder begun:
The air grew more light and the laughter more fun.
I marveled and mulled how it’s not only tots;
We, too, need wise sages in pink polka dots.
Ed Morris, 2019
This page copyright © 2019 Edward A. Morris. Created January 14, 2019. Last updated January 14, 2019.