NB – MAY NEED TO LET IT BUFFER OR PLAY TWICE IF IT STUTTERS/HANGS
When I can ride the carousel no more,
and must break its perpetual turning,
I walk through strange rooms and hallways
where corners hide the unexpected,
and quietude holds for a blanching sky
as all the world awaits a palette new.
These are peculiar hours,
close to those I love, yet utterly alone
there on the back step,
tasting cool air yet to be breathed by others now asleep,
as I look upon a haphazard skyline
of skeletal aerials and chimneys
that draw no smoke.
At this time odd cars still pass,
their headlights clawing away the night,
eager for the empty roads.
While birds claim telephone wires,
roofs and high branches to sing their song.
just for the joy of being.