From just outside
the technicolored tent,
the man with a walrus mustache
and sly smile shouts:
"Saving the children-
And the fish
And the cows
And the rhinos and the trees-
Today!
So drop your
Quarters and your
Dimes
and your Hundred Dollar Bills
in the box at the door.
The children,
and the fish and the cows and the rhinos and the trees,
will appreciate it,
to be sure.
It's surely to be
a grand event.
So drop your money-
slip it, jam it-
into that lovely glass box
and join us inside
for a marvelous show benefitting
The Underprivileged."
And the crowds,
with their polluted consciences
and their diluted understanding,
enter the tent
in droves.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poetry"I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty." -Edgar Allan Poe
