Riding on the Carousel
Like a child upon a steed
having not a care or need
Sitting high up in the seat
stirrups hold your tiny feet.
Ride along my mighty friend
before the ride comes to an end.
Find your treasure or your gold
Find it soon, before you’re old.
Laughter brings a happy sound
as you ride around, around.
Hold on tight so you don’t miss
the views along this ride of bliss.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry (first published on PoetrySoup.com)