Tears of a Clown

From his inside pocket,
he takes out a smile...
to place upon his mask.

Tatty cuffs for a brush,
pallet of powdered rainbow...
he starts his heartbreaking task.

The last few strokes
of coloured paint...
are juggled upon a white sheet.

Through the reflection
of a pain of glass...
the facade has become complete.

For nobody knows
what his eyes have seen...
The streets are the circus
he calls home.

Moved around
from pillar to post,
a soggy cardboard box
is this jesters throne.

Society judge him
by appearance only...
over looking sorrow filled eyes.

His mask is waring thin,
as the rain does begin...
behind running colours he cries.

Curled up in a ball,
against a cardboard wall...
his dream has started to take flight.

A proper roof, two floors and dining table,
Family, friends with a life to call stable...
No tears on duck feathers tonight.

As heavy rain gives way,
grey stormy clouds in dismay...
as sun rays become unravelled.

With his smile back in place,
puddle washed footprints never to be traced...
from shoes that have always travelled.

.....................

Line taken from:-
Bomb-shell...(string Tanka)
"Tears on duck feathers tonight."

Had help from Saffie with this piece,
I wouldn't say writers block, just my head
disagreed with my pen?! :/