The Old Carousel

Off in the distance it silently sits there, the music is gone now laughter of children is nowhere. It rusts in the rain beyond the growing pines, grass grows tall around it it's being overrun with vines. The old carousel stands in the big field alone, awaiting children to come and play animal faces are as cold as stone. It wants to be ridden the music needs to be played, just one last time, it cries out before it completely disappears today. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Nov.17/2015 I had this idea pop up in my head and had to run with it.