Unpausing

The toys are waiting. The carousel is empty. Balloons billowing in the sky. Clowns in a stillness. The ball refuses to roll. At the park, you will find me, rolling in the grass, chasing pigeons, sitting quietly around the bitter dandelion. The Sun raises his heat to break me out of this stupor. The moon weeps for me, that all children can play in their playground. Wisdom says that those who remain young enter the gate of higher horizons. At the local carnival, I eat from the sugary fluff, reclaiming what was stolen. The clowns resume, and the music plays on. The children return, and I follow, in a prance that moves me forward.