On a merry-go-round of perception on a tall prancing, painted horse,
Shifting patterns of movement and thoughts are fleeting swiftly by,
Recesses of memories, flying by with odd faces, I try to stay the course.
Tightening my grip on leather straps, I can remember those days gone by,
A small, speedy heart is pumping, as anxiety spreads through this child,
Did they disappear into the fading crowd, I can’t get down but franticly I try.
The ride a dance of shaky inspections of myself now folded and tossed,
Around and around I go while searching for a glimpse of their two faces,
Once again, my insides turn to cinders as I fear I have been intentionally lost.
by JKC 7/29/19