Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Carousel

Her eyes are open, blank, with a worn off expression
Her coat dusty, but with the promise of having seen better days
Younger days, from before the weathering
When the lights were still lit, and the music still sang
Fond memories of when I didn't care
Of when I never fell, of a time where my lips weren't red with ambition
Of a time my cheeks were rosy instead
And there was a boy, a boy, a man
Standing across with sand in his hand
I tighten my grip, my knuckles are strained
The circle is slowing, slowly to my grave
The man places a kiss upon my brow,
There is a glimmer on his hand
There is a promise on mine
Together we'll have our time unwind
Or together we'll mend our timely end

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