Riding a Cyclone
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How many years? I'm not even sure
It was late in the day, as the sun turned to rust
I was holding his hand, and trembling with fear
Kicking up dust with my Mary Jane shoes
filled with concoctions of sugar and goo
Looking at him for assurance and trust
I remember our feet boarding the plank
as if on the brink, of a life or death prank
My Dad, (for the fourth time, a smile on his face)
had offered a chance to back out with grace
But I was determined, insistent and firm!
How many times, had he taken a turn...
with my brother in tow?....While I watched from below
confined like a babe of the infantile row?
Dad finally relented, to my mother's chagrin
then took my hand,.......and my bravado began...
Sticky the heat, and so were my hands, ...we waited our turn
while a tummy would churn
We boarded the Cyclone, a faceless contraption,
that seemed quite familiar...the seaside attraction
that brother had made on our living room floor
with his Tinker Toy set, and the toys we adored
A strange looking man with a raw sunburned nose
and a head that seemed too small, like a small cabbage, posed
escorted us on, into a red metal bucket,
strapped us inside, like mice in his pocket!
The sound of the metal, was skimming the track
Winding up slowly, then full-on attack!
I buried my face in the arm of my Dad....
Blinded by fear, never once looking back
The Cyclone, I'm sure was fierce as could be
I wanted to look, and was too blind to see
Finally it stopped. We departed unharmed !
But never again... I was........NOT to be charmed
I only remember my two shaky knees,
barely walking the plank into my mother's arms !
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5/21/14
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
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