Rotating rapture
wafting skyward on the aroma of
cotton candy popcorn roasted
french fried corny dogs;
up uP UP and over
the tip of the world.
Rolling, falling feathers in our stomach.
Wig-waging the worn weathered
eliciting screams from nuts, bolts
and friends.
The blurred expressions in the snake-like line
of exptectants
shrink in obscurity as the
H o r i z o n E x p a n d s
flying smiling
Watch your step,
exit to the right.

Suzanne M. Kelly

Copyright © 1992-2023 Suzanne M Kelly