I’m walking through the carnival.
The lights are too bright.
The calliope is too loud.
Clouds of smoke float by.
I hold my head high.
The night is not old yet.
Now that the sky is dark,
I can see the fireworks sparkle.
I hear smooth music start.
A running crowd draws near.
I follow the strange people.
Then I see an old friend.
My loneliness fades away quickly.
I speak to my companion.
We return to the carnival.
I’m keeping my plans open.
William Wayne Smith
W. Wayne B. 