Saggi

Sundown without a crown,
Shining drowns, beneath the crowd,
of laughing clowns, suffocating,
skating like they're above the clouds,
sad faces, buried, neath up-turned mouths,
ask the birds about, the last thing they found,
the last time, a crying jester read aloud,
from his palm, a psalm of alms,
almost loud enough, to make it out,
soft enough, he didn't make a sound,
and hence, he owned the town,
crestfallen, beneath the mound,
a plaque and no statue,
and no one to be found.