The smell of freshly popped corn no longer lingers
The carnies are no longer shouting their jeers
The joyous music has been drained of this place
My childhood hangout, bare and abandoned
Where once stood my favorite ride, is a forgotten field
Signs of its presence, though, small and often overlooked
Lay strewn across my former playground
Like bits of history, from a forgotten time
The rusty metal protruding through the grasses
The rotten wood remaining from the coaster
The tattered walkway and beaten meandering paths
I am only able to rebuild this land within my head
For when I close my eyes
I hear laughing and screaming
I smell corn dogs and funnel cakes
I see myself running through the crowd, to be first in line
In this former carnival, there are memories a plenty
Nothing is the same, now that it is empty.