The Gold Ring

My mind keeps going around in circles

Rotating around, and around, and around…

Her.

My mind wants to reach for the gold ring on the carousel

I can feel my hand stretching

Yearning

Fighting

Grasping

The gold ring shining against the golden sunlight

But my hand slips

I lose my grip

And fall

Down the never-ending cliff

I can feel each blow to my back from the harsh wind

My hair blinding each sight 

And each thought

I pray for a soft landing

A gentle hand to catch me

A warm bed to wake up from 

I hit the floor, and shatter

I’m made of porcelain 

But that’s okay

I can glue myself back together

And fill each crack with gold

And get up

On the carousel

And reach for the gold ring… again