The Clown Who Would Be A Bookworm
Poem By Mary Naylor
There was a clown.
He was so sad.
He didn't want to be a clown;
He wanted to be a bookworm, instead.
If I were a bookworm, he would say,
I would be dressed like a jester
With a bright, pointy cap on my head.
I would have a plump body of orange, gold and green.
I would hide inside books
and peek out of the leaves.
I would laugh and chuckle
At all those that read,
For they would try to catch me,
But I would move at great speed.
But alas, alas, I am not a bookworm,
Just a poor fool, born to be a clown.
See, see, the funny clown?
He's up, he's down,
He laughs, never frowns,
then he moves around without a sound.
While he somersaults and dances,
And rides a teeny bike with a big horn - TOOTLE! TOOTLE!
His painted lips always wear a smile,
Yet, I think I see a tear sparkle in his eye!