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Ghosts of the Carousel

The carousel moans to the empty dusk, rusted music haunts brittle air, the laughter has decayed.

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Justin Bordner

Date: 4/28/2025 6:34:00 PM

The paint of a thousand joys has molted, tears cling to cotton candy like ice on moist lips, ticket booth bemoans an empty till of vanished thrill...J.A.B.

Alesia Leach
Date: 5/1/2025 10:50:00 AM

Justin, your words feel like they were whispered from the carousel itself--melancholy, poetic, and unforgettable. That image of tears clinging to cotton candy gave me chills. Thank you for sharing such a beautifully haunting response--it’s like the ride spins on, just a little longer. Gratefully, Alesia