Glowed against the golden flutes
Which matched her waist grown locks.
Wide as an owl her ocean blue eyes
Soaked in the twirling mosaics
And the oil strokes of rainbow.
Up and down she howled with laughter
All she saw were wings in the fairy lights
And her château coated in ivy
Just waited for her beyond the next turn of the wheel.
She dreamed of knights and castles
Her world was imagined through magic.
Each turn of the page
Each turn of the wheel
Her mind took her to somewhere new.
In the decaying leaves of winter
The carousel froze in time.
All that glittered was gone.
And the endless spectrum became
Black and white.
Magic turned to dust
Princes turned into demons
Castles turned into a stark, cold cage.
Monochrome still life
A blank canvas.
Locked in the dungeon
She became her own prisoner
With only a meer window that peered
To the golden carousel of her past
Where endless possibilities existed.
When does the ride stop spinning and the world start turning?