A CHILD'S DREAM CAUGHT IN A CIRCLE

And the horses keep their rising—
wooden lungs that never tire,
climbing through the quiet twilight
toward a sky of lantern fire.
Round and round the garden's center,
softly turning through the gloom—
a child's dream caught in a circle
that the mind could not resume.

Lacquered horses. Lantern sky. A ride that never learned the last song.
12×18 matte — the carousel still clocking in after closing.