Imagination

The Skyscrapers and the Merry-Go-Round

It used to be a small town,

and situated center

was the merry-go-round.

Children loved it,

adults too.

Pleasant memories were built,

two by two.

Though people were poor,

they were constantly happy.

With toothy grins and cotton candy,

hotdogs and shots of whisky,

the atmosphere stayed celebratory

with everyone close as a family.

The horses illuminated

by the enchanting yellow glow,

would rise and dip

with the pace always slow.

The melody would start,

and forever sound mellow,

leaving everyone

looking forward to tomorrow.

Years through years,

it proved itself magical,

never shied away

from the people it found special.

The horses bore the weight,

no matter how heavy

and the merry-go-round spun,

all the while light and breezy.

But then rust filled the ride,

when people started leaving.

Long stripes appeared

under the horses' eyes.

How much they wished

they were still trotting.

The mirrors reflected

a padlock and chains,

going round and round

the poor ride's gates.

That wasn't all,

for then came

the unbearable noise

of drills and cranes.

Around it rose

silver, metal blocks—

stone cold, and unapproachable.

So high up,

the horses couldn't see

unable to crane their necks,

they were deprived of mobility.

Days went by,

there were no longer cheers,

the damage had been done

it was beyond repair.

For many months,

all they could hear and see

were individuals

in hurried footsteps,

and faces laced with worry.

The skyscrapers reflected

the way people looked.

Oh, it was nothing like

what it used to be in the book.

People felt suffocated,

their peace of mind gone.

The looming, cold architecture,

made them feel forlorn.

While luxurious and ever high,

the buildings were all of uniform design.

Versus the merry-go-round—

though stout,

but always twinkling,

it never fails to get

people smiling.

Workers from the buildings

used to look over the ride,

thinking it was locked, tarnished

and should be cast aside.

Why does it remain center,

all these years?

Something better should be built

right then and there.

They peeked, they probed,

And eventually rubbed away

the tears that were deeply rooted,

on the display.

In a trance-like state,

the lock and chains vanished.

The ride spun once again,

and the people knew that

this was something to be cherished.

Embarrassed, they felt,

as they have only just understood,

to not blindly leave

anything that brightens the mood.

And that also not everything

had to look expensive and classy.

As old things, at the same time,

have their own sort of beauty.