At sixteen he ran away with the May day circus.
At fourteen,
He'd seen the spinning lights,
Saloing in the night.
Heard distant shrieks.
He'd pressed his nose to cold glass.
Peered across wind-split fields to watch his future at play.

His room was the warmest in the farm house.
The top room where cobwebs collected corn dust.
And toy soldiers ruled play.
He loved his mum's floury arms
His father's hairy nose and wellies.
But he wanted to stop swinging in trees
He wanted to fly the trapeze.

In a trance he packed himself up.
He took a toothbrush, three pairs of pants and a sandwich.
What else do you need for circus life?
They give you a caravan, a costume and a job.
He could wash his pants when he needed more.

Walking straight and tall to his mum was more difficult than he'd dreamt.
He knelt and told her he'd be back one day.