Fairground rides make broken hearts,
or so I have come to believe.
Toffee apples and candyfloss
and the smell of autumn in the breeze.
I sat by the entrance,
my converse beating against the brick.
The sky was flush with orange
and faint tunes caught in the wind.
I turned to see the Ferris wheel,
turning in its sleep.
I walked through the fairground,
breaking fallen leaves.
I find my way to Ferris wheel,
it's now wide awake.
I ride it to the top
and gently fall to sleep.
When I woke I wanted,
you to be there.
But you weren't.
I was just broken hearted
at the fair.
