THE GIRL ON THE CAROUSEL

When but a boy I lived in town
And liked so much to hear the sound
Of the carousel as it whirled
And watch the horses as they twirled.

Our house was a stately one
With brick front and yard for fun.
I would sometimes camp out at night
And watch the carousel in flight.

Often times I’d fall asleep
And dream about how monsters creep
Up from the old cemetery
Where God knows what might be berried.

But still imagination plays
With boys minds, in younger days,
And as I now reminisce
My exploits were not always bless.

One night while watching from a tree,
Where I could see most easily
The carousel and colored lights,
I dozed a while within the night.

How long I slept I can’t relate
but later on in puzzled state,
Awakened by the huge machine
I snapped out of my pensive dream.

I saw the lights then dimly glow
As the carousel did gently go.
The music was quite subdued
And somehow seemed a bit eschewed.

I saw no one to ride the horses
And no one there to start the coursers
Then somehow, a chill came over me
As I remained to wait and see.

Soon, from the old cemetery,
White forms rose, some seemed merry
Little whips of ghostly hue
And down they ambled two by two.

On they walked to the carousel
And there upon, they rode quite well.
It never sped up as it could
And lights shown dimmer then they should.

But still, they all seemed to enjoy
Their moments on the massive toy
For barely, I could see their faces
As they rode with silent graces.

On they rode, and then I smiled
As did those spirits so beguiled
By the music and the swirl
And then a single, younger girl

Looked out from the wooden deck
By the carousel to check
For she must have seen, by dim light,
My amazed face against the night.

She seemed quite attractive to me
Like a school girl might like to be
With pigtails and a pale, prim dress;
My heart beet softly, I confess.

She waved and smiled and I waved back
Then she remounted the hoofed pack
And waved again each time around
In tempo to the music’s sound.

And then perhaps, of night’s design,
They seemed to finish their good time
And all dismounted, every one,
Then slowed the ride as all were done.

At that the branch just beneath me
Gave way and I fell from the tree.
There I lay quite still and groaned
And for a moment sorely moaned.

Regaining my lost composure
I gazed at the ride enclosure.
All was as it had been before,
Nothing less and nothing more.

Next day when I told paw, he said,
“Gosh boy, you really bumped your head.
Perhaps you should see old Doc Brown.
You might have bruised that poor soft ground.”

Pop kind of laughed and I did too,
For me a bump was nothing new.

So, resigned to say nothing more,
For even then I knew the score,
I told no one else what I saw,
Especially my skeptical paw.

But later on, that very year,
    I rode the carousel
And conquered all my youthful fear
    and ghostly thoughts as well,
Though in my heart I still recall
    the music and the spell
Of the spirits who held that ball
    and the girl on the carousel.

~Robert E Browne~

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