Playground roundabout

A child, singing, round and round
The sound, a lovely ringing peal
A composition which, simply by existing                                                                                 Determines to trounce fate

Toes spin around above the ground
A petal drifts around that angelic face                                                                                               A smile touches your lips
Then a frown

A crease betwixt the eyebrows fixes
Your eyes widen as fate crouches to pounce
The toes stop going round; they hit the ground                                                                                   The petal touches the ground without a sound                                                                               The singing stops; the silence resounds
Someone should stop the playground roundabout                                                                                             but it goes round and                                                                                                                                       round

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