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Sunday, May 19, 2013

Night Rider


By Jean Bush

Upon the haunted, magic air

A sound is heard in the dark somewhere;

A creak of wood, as gears are churned,

A carousel begins to turn.

 

A siren song that calls a child

To find these horses running wild,

Whose painted mouths say: Join our game!

He leaps the one he wants to tame.

 

The laughing boy holds tight the pole

And hugs the wooden horse of old.

Watching the dark town flashing by

He takes the forbidden midnight ride.

 

The painted eyes begin to gleam

And shadows flicker close like dreams.

Front hooves rise in a sudden rear

As the boy now clings to flesh and fear.

 

He turns and looks for one last time

As the leave the carousel behind.

The maddened horse in nightmare flight

Rides the boy into the night.

They leap the earth in an endless rush

And hopes of childhood turn to dust.

The dark night turns to seek the dawn

But against the stars the boy is gone.













































 

 

 

 


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