The Poet’s Corner

The Brass Ring

Faded dreams,

wishes outgrown,

and hope turned to sorrow.

The morning after,

the lights have faded,

the music has stopped,

and alone we are left.

What matters now –

scattered pieces of what

we dreamed might be?

The carousel has

come to a standstill.

The ride is over,

and the dreams

have succumbed to reality.

I have another quarter,

do I try again tomorrow?

Or is the brass ring,

Simply out of reach?


~ Cristina Jill Mosqueda ~

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