The carousel at Old Towne Mall
Went ‘round and ‘round within its hall,
A vast an empty chambered space,
Where mirth and laughter once took place.

I still can hear its music ring
And what foot-traffic it did bring
To patron clothing shops and stores
And give a break from daily chores.

A lone grandfather lifts a boy–
Who pockets quickly his small toy–
Unto an all-white unicorn.
He gleely grabs its twisted horn.

The operator in his booth
Ignores the growing, lonely truth.
Instead, he does a sincere job
To send the horses ‘round to bob.

The riders there all give a chase
Within its static, endless race.
No victors of the circuit run;
Its only destination: fun.

The carousel at Old Towne Mall
Had echoed softly winter’s pall.
Its memory is sad and sweet
As all good things now obsolete.


(Photo by Mihai Vlasceanu)