Carousel- End Of Summer by Laureen Manera
As the sun peeks over the horizon
Muscles bulge, wild eyes search
Looking for the familiar crowds
But seeing no one.
Teeth are bared, nostrils flare
Sniffing for the usual smells
Of corn dogs and fried onions
And all manner of things greasy.
The sun is up now, there's no sign of rain
Not a cloud is in the sky
Yet nobody is here.
Where is everyone, why don't they come?
Pricked ears strain, listening for laughter
But there is none.
Even the music from the gaudy band-organ
Has been stilled.
Where are the little feet
That kick against wooden flanks
Urging to go faster
Though it's not possible?
Where are the tiny hands
Eagerly clutching wind-tossed manes
Plastered against powerful necks
Stretching toward a finish line never quite reached?
A chill wind blows
Through the forest of brass poles
And the horses long to run
But no one sets them free.
Soon the surging steeds
Will be packed and hauled away
Far from this carefree place
By the sea.
Forced to spend the winter
In a dank storage shed
In silence and alone...
Until next summer.
