Carousel Poem by Faith Wood
Carousel
Floating words,
trickling letters
falling on my skin-
They're raindrops
and when they all just settle in,
We brush them aside,
we wipe them away
erasing everything, washed, away
but I can't always do that
We make our way in endless tiring speech
rambling a mile a minute
round as a needle,
we go round and round.
We're a carousel
and we spin,
not realizing
the faster we turn,
the harder we fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/31/2025 11:22:51 AM # 1.0.0
