THE PARK

You are the theme park screaming,

You are cold and rusted.

You are the ferris wheel,

Tilting and turning.

You are the flooded, destroyed ride,

Acting like you are a blue sea monster.

You are the red, rusted swing, 

No longer able to turn to look.

You are the dinosaur cars,

Attached to the ground with metal pipes

You are the colours,

Fading through the years of being abandoned.

You are the rides,

Thirsty for a new paint job.

You are the ferris wheel cart,

Waiting to be cleaned.

You are the leaves,

Tumbling from the autumn trees.

You are forgotten dreams,

Waiting to be discovered again.

You are the park,

Being rebuilt from the ground up.