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"The merry-go-round wasn’t a ride. It was a lesson. Hold on or eat dirt!"
Poem written for Weekly Poetry Challenge, October 5, 2026: Write a poem about a place you remember from childhood.
At the city park, the playground gleamed beneath a ruthless summer sun~ all steel and consequence. The jungle gym was a mountain range of hot rungs and skinned knees. The slide could blister the backs of bare legs by noon. But the merry-go-round was legendary! A circle of metal bars spun by us wiry kids who believed speed itself was a worthy ambition. We ran alongside, shoving hard, then leapt aboard, breathless and triumphant. Those who held on stayed. Those who didn't left in spectacular fashion~ rolling through dirt and crabgrass, wearing gravel like temporary medals. No one explained the rules of survival. The machine did that. Round and round, it taught us what childhood rarely says aloud: The world moves faster than expected. Grip what matters. Laugh when you fall. Climb back on. Years later, I understand why I so vividly remember the merry-go-round~ Not because it carried me, but because it let me go.
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