I watch her sort through the box of clowns.
She carefully lifts each one out of the pink tissue paper.
They are the remnants of the other half of her legacy.
A family that abandoned her.
They are her father.
She tells me about each one. I feel honored.
"These are the babies" she says,
"These ones look like acrobats, dont' you think?"
"This one is cute, he's my favorite, but this one looks kind of creepy"
and "this one is very breakable."
just like your heart, I think to myself.
little does she know, that in years to come,
she will have to sort through the box of clowns many times.
but not alone.
"Send In The Clowns"