The quiet little government official <br />finished with her list, walked out into <br />the dazzling sunshine, realized the <br />splendours in her mind must be <br />packed away till the end of day <br />when her work is done, wondered <br />about the origin of the song that <br />kept playing in the deepest corner <br />of her mind, waiting for the images <br />dancing on the edge of conscious- <br />ness to stabilise and make their <br />presence clearly known <br /> <br />Braving the storm of letters to be <br />rendered in a foreign tongue so <br />the President’s minions could take <br />a look at it, the world grinding to <br />a halt, voices falling silent, no tears <br />to be shed for old passions cold and <br />dead, waiting for new visions to <br />create a new dream in her heart, <br />the stories always come, the eternal <br />spiral of fantasy always turns into a <br />new carousel on which a new <br />ride starts…<br /><br />Margaret Alice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/2010-03-01-a-new-carousel/
