Wandering through life
Beguiled by money and fame
She stopped on that crisp spring day
No one knew her real name
Strange, but she found that okay
A bird on a wire looked down
This wasn’t the place she had found
A stroll through the small, quiet town
A spinning cup on a merry-go-round
The sky was beginning to glow
A yellow curry shade she grew to love
Without thinking she bent way down low
A cube of sugar clutched in her glove
No place now would ever be right
No place now could stay just the same
This was her own anguished plight
With her happiness, fear often came
©2026 CBialczak
Stine Writing 
I really enjoyed this. It left me with a curious melancholy wandering feeling.
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