Cotton Candy Dreams

Cotton Candy Dreams

Bright colored lights twinkle and wink against the night sky.
Calliope music bounces merrily through the air.
Vividly painted horses of every hue go up and down, round and round.
Children laugh and squeal in delight without a care.

A little old man, shoulders stooped, skin weathered, sits on a bench nearby.
A battered hat perched atop his snowy-white head, his wrinkled coat has seen better days.
His hands are gnarled with arthritis, the cane he must walk with leans against his legs within reach.
And yet every night, no matter the weather, one can find him here sitting and watching; each evening he stays.

He watches the carousel, the children waving, parents with cameras snapping away.
He watches people walk by with hands full of all manner of carnival treats.
Cotton candy, peanuts, popcorn, hotdogs and soda,
stuffed animals and prizes won in games of skills and feats.

A little brown dog sits at his feet, a mutt of indiscernible breed or age
whose tail always wags, greeting passerby with a friendly shake and a lick.
The man's furry companion is content to sit and watch the festivities
especially when the children give him a pet and share their sweets on a stick.

The old man and his dog are a fixture you see.
Spending each night watching the carousel go by.
All summer long, every year, here the pair can be found
on the rickety bench under the banner-clad sky.

The man's eyes twinkle with mischief and merriment, memories of years gone by reflected there.
A smile on his face, he looks back upon the decades of laughter and tears, sorrows and joy.
The years that found him as a traveling roustabout, working for carnivals like this one.
Years that had him living his cotton candy dreams, a life that made a man out of the restless boy.

He looks up at the galloping horses, manes flying free, kids urging their wooden steeds,
and sees the girl with the golden hair who once sat there gazing down at him.
The young woman who stole his heart, who wore his ring and became his wife
whose image, even after she passed, would, in his heart, never dim.

His smile widens as he sees the children they created together
and lifted up to take their own little seats upon the ride.
His boys and girls, now grown with children and grandchildren of their own.
They followed their dreams just has he had, rising and flowing with every tide.

So if by chance you find yourself strolling through the midway,
search out the carousel, the little dog and the little old man.
Stop and sit for a spell with them on that rickety bench
for he has stories to tell and songs still to sing, as anyone with dreams can.



Word Count: 472