February dribbles - 9

She spins; the wheels go round and round. She rides the merry-go-round, till skies keep turning like memory’s broken sound. There’s no-one there. She doesn’t care. And sunset’s gray turns cold.

Time to pretend, she tells herself, game over, secrets ended; he was never her friend.

Spinning alone, broken sound.

Comments

Ruth Cox aka abitosunshine said…
Excellent dribble, Sheila! You've described that merry-go-round in an all-too-familiar way.
February 9, 2011 at 7:58 PM
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