The Ghosts of a Closed-Down Carnival
By Saywisely
1 min read
Nov 14, 2024
The Ferris wheel, a metal spy,
Stares blankly at a winter sky.
The ticket booths, with peeling paint,
Recall a joy, now old and faint.
The ghosts of laughter, spun-sugar sweet,
Still haunt this lonely, gravel street.
A colorful and rusted cage,
Turned by the wind, a single page.
Stares blankly at a winter sky.
The ticket booths, with peeling paint,
Recall a joy, now old and faint.
The ghosts of laughter, spun-sugar sweet,
Still haunt this lonely, gravel street.
A colorful and rusted cage,
Turned by the wind, a single page.