Poetry

The year is 36. The shoreline is full of people in lines waiting for the carousel, roller coaster, fun house, and all the attractions.

Ladies are strolling along with their parasols and pistol packing men pushing the babies in baby buggies.

The carnies are hollering ‘step right up try your luck ten tries for only a buck.’

Cotton candy, soda pop, hot dogs, root beer floats, and beer.

Flash the image has vanished the wrecking ball is here poof up in smoke.
The amusement park is gone it is no more.

Houses, buildings even a grocery store; high tide low tide, and a giant wooden fishing pier.

Through the sands she came paralyzed in a chair; she was not confused just confined to a chair.

Her granddaughter, on the other hand was somewhat perplexed; listening knowing it is what it is.

The women in the chair sat with her ghosts on the wooden pier.

I don’t want to leave; I go out of mind sitting in the room sitting in my chair
.
I no longer can feel my legs but I still feel my heart.

Flying above the pier six seagulls flew.

Grandma we have to go, must we? They trudged through the sand and they left the shore.

The fun house was gone and she had to go back to the house that was supposed to be a home.