On The Merry-Go-Round Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

You take your chances.
On the merry-go-round
The carousel horse ride.
Paper-chain—doll-linked—cutting-room
Where there's just no solitary room
So, I guess you're going to fly.
So, I'm guessing you're going to roll.
Till you find yourself back home.

Beaten, bruised and all alone
A tenderfoot on the wrong side of the shore
With just a fortune cookie of trust
To get along with, you must
The faster the wheel spins
The dizzier you feel, oh, mysterious it is.
How have you not yet fallen off?
Lost-your-spinning-top.

It isn't for the glory.
You ride a carousel horse.
Gazing in every direction, looking up at the moon
Finding rainbows in your mind
Where summer flowers bloom in the dark
Like moonflowers giving off an eternal spark
A peace, a mercy that keeps
Your soul, bulletproof and clean, hmm.