The swings we once hung in still drift,
the wind whispering to them, always,
of who we were when we were young

The merry-go-round twirls
at every carnival,
its song a ghost
of memories,
floating in the night

The stars above spin around, and around,
until they blur in streaks of light
across our sky,
until we can no longer tell
which one of us
is spinning faster

And time moves many things
but more than anything
I hope it moves me,
closer to you