THE MIDNIGHT CAROUSEL

In a long abandoned fairground,
Paint peeling, litter strewn.
Rise a ghostly crowd of revellers,
Fog born, within the gloom.
The carousel horses stand,
Time frozen in their flight.
Until the whistle of the ghost train,
Chills this very special night.
Then the clock strikes the witching hour,
On a church across the bay
And slowly the fairground stirs to life,
A midnight game to play.
There's a creaking and a groaning,
The flickering of long dead lights.
Whilst a steam organ coughs, then awakens,
Its music fills the night.
The carousel begins to move,
The horses prance with renewed joy.
To carry phantom riders, pallid spectres,
Ghostly girl and long dead boy.
The swings ,the dodgems, roller coasters, all,
In glory are reborn.
To cater for this spectral crowd,
Rages a distant thunderstorm.
There is music, long dead laughter,
Through this late October eve.
'Til the fairground and the revellers, 
Greet November's 'All Saints' dawn.
With the morning mist the breeze stirs,
The chill wind bids them leave.

Author's note. Written around Halloween and I hope this conveys an image of a long abandoned fairground
haunted by ghosts of the past!
Other poems along with illustrations can be found on my website http://poetrybyjohnpegg.weebly.com/

Tags: sad, scary, dark,