The old house across the way,
cracked wood, cracked spines inside,
plays the gramophone constantly.
Merry-go-round hymns float gently
on summer breezes: slowly.
They dance on sunbeams,
gliding through the open window.
Fairy dust hangs in the light
and waits to touch a hopeful heart.
I am warmed by carousel laughter
and piano notes. Here, trapped:
confined to this armchair:
I watch June sail by.