The
colours of your grass theatre are blood red and ice blue.
You arrive with a tang of petrol
we admire what you do.
You bring us glamour and danger
as you ride bareback, tumble and spin
appearing to be boneless
you flex your elastic skin.
On your Wheel of Death, your Globe of Terror
you claw back victory from calamity.
We watch as you dance on air
you seem to defy our gravity.
If we could, we would follow you.
We are drawn by your weightless jeopardy.
No comments:
Post a Comment