a painted horse
garish, fierce,
childishly beautiful,
turning revolutions
without a care in the world
(or so it seems).

then the ride stops,
the music dies away
and children are rushed
home by tired parents
wanting to get dinner and bedtime
out of the way.

the lights turn to black
and the playground is cold.
the smiles and laughter are no more,
no more.
the horses cannot ride home.