The mighty Carousel sits silent in the park.
It has been a month since it has heard the sound,
Of children laughing; and crying for a special horse.

The mighty Carousel sits silent in the park,
hating the season called winter and the cold.
It knows, again, the three months of silence.

The mighty Carousel sits silent in the park,
each beast upon it dreaming of the last child
that set atop its back and laughed with joy.

The mighty Carousel sits silent in the park.
Dreaming again of its music, the spinning round,
hearing the laughter of pink and pastel children.

The mighty Carousel sits silent in the park,
its snow-flecked musing not so dark at all--
for clock hands turn without it, and Spring will come.