Up and down we gently go
Round and around in a spell —
While the music softly plays
On the carousel.

Up and down on a summer night
Where smiles and laughter dwell
Astride a golden horse and lion
On the carousel.

We'll wave as the world goes by
And carry a tale to tell
Singing a song of childhood
On the carousel

I liked connecting the dots when I was younger—
drawing a line from dot to dot to make the picture.
My tongue between my teeth, with concentration traced on my face
as I connected the dots to make the picture.

I still like connecting the dots.
But now, I’m trying to make the picture of who I am now—
why I am the way I am now.
Connecting the dots to find out what happened
to the old me—the hopeful me, the happy me.

Connecting the dots to find the events that led up
to this different person I’ve become,
connecting the dots to make the picture of me now, inside and out.

I’ve connected the dots.
There is no picture—just a jumble of lines
leading in no clear direction, passing over each other, and lines cut off, just one massive knot of confusion.

So, with my tongue between my teeth
and concentration traced on my face,
I’m trying to make a new picture.
No dots, no lines—just me,
making the best new me I can.

Readers, writers
Are a company who finds comfort
In the worlds we build for ourselves
And for others
Seeking solace when we have no comfort left
In the world around us.

Old battered hat
Skin of my skin

Over the years
We have become the same