So what colour should love be
on the face we show the world?
Is fear the white make-up base?
The veil clothing us in past experiences,
keeping them close in our minds?
Do blue brows give early warning
above our windows to the soul –
predicting a cautious tale of woe?
The vehicle of words which wound
wears lipstick red – do they reveal
blood spilt in misunderstanding?
When make-up is removed
will it wash away fears, expose
the truth – leave us naked?
Are we all clowns, underneath?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2011
Perth Words... exploring possibilities. 
Love this, Frances. I think there’s a lot of clown in most of us!
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Thanks, Jean.
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Reblogged this on Perth Words… exploring possibilities. and commented:
I like this poem… even read as prose, I like the words.
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