One of the Troupe

The Treverè


He sings a bit -- often out of tune.
See him juggle there quickly falling balls,
and try a dance with missing step or two.
His sonnets loose their fine metered beat,
and his riddles mystify even him.
Conjuring and long practiced slight of hand
dissolve midst fumbled coins and colored silk.
Yet, he is a most true friend and bard,
for he knows well the song of my heart,
and can sing it back to me when I have
forgotten the simple whispered words.

papa