The Peddler of Flowers

I came from the country
With flowers,
Larkspur and roses,
Fretted lilies
In their leaves,
And long, cool lavender.
I carried them
From house to house,
And cried them
Down hot streets.
The sun fell
Upon my flowers.
And the dust of the streets
Blew over my basket.
That night
I slept upon the open seats
Of a circus,
Where all day long
People had watched
The antics
Of a painted clown.