Fairground Memories

A little girl runs her hand,
along the smooth violet porcelain.
Gazing up at the galloping ponies,
on a once grand merry go round.

It is chipped and cracked,
and covered in dust.
But the soft fluttering music,
always brings her back,
to a once grand merry go round

The clinks of the clockwork,
the smell of fresh roses,
as sweet as the bonbons from the corner store,
are all contained,
forever and more,
in a once grand merry go round.

Soundtrack of her childhood,
the neighs of the ponies,
the precious glass encrusted.
The whispered wishes of a lonely girl,
a once grand merry go round.