Carnival Fountain

I watch the day pass while sitting in a cafe, across from a carnival fountain.
I watch as children play, as lovers hold hands, as people run hoping to beat the clock.

I walk past Colin street in this deserted town, nothing other than ghosts and faded colors to celebrate me home.

I head back towards the cafe, across the carnival fountain, where the children play and life is simple and simply lived. No Sunday night blues scare away any sense of optimism we may have obtained.

I sit on the edge, of the carnival fountain, a fountain filled with pennies and wishes.

It’s a story, a tale, a anecdote or perhaps a truth?

What are memories for if not to remind us what we have forgotten?

I am cold, I am cold…
Another day passes, just another day…