it was abandoned.
no longer being able to serve its purpose, it was tossed aside for being broken — being useless. what had once elicited the joyful shrieks of young children now stays silent. it stays untouched. it stays, along with the moments of time past. it stays, but time is a thief — the ride, an oblivious accomplice. they have stolen memories that would never be made.
imagine how my heart had skipped a beat — in one of the worst ways possible — upon seeing such brokenness. imagine how my mind had raced to recall every memory attached to the merry-go-round in a feeble attempt to somehow give it life again.
when my hands had given a cart the smallest push, it had groaned in protest. it was the kind of sound that made you think of a dying cough or a house creaking just before it would collapse.
so i stepped away. and i let it cease.