Carousel

Out on a corner
on a cool summer evening
stands an old carousel top
made of stone and concrete
with no horses or children inside,
only a maze upon its floor

Majestically remembering
its one hundred year history
of children laughing and screaming,
of the honking of horns from the street
of the smells of cotton candy and of love
of the flickering light
and of the many, many nights of possibility

Brilliant lights, twirling famously
and vibrantly
round and round
red, green and blue
turning and spinning
endlessly
through the warm summer evenings
...
Evenings that might well never end,
as long as a carousel
maintains a singular
and noble vigil
over memories of other nights
now long gone bye