Remembering my childhood brings many thoughts,
Some were good and some were not.
But the memories I enjoy most in my thoughts,
Are those of the carousel and rides in the park.
Every Sunday after Church, we'd jump in the car,
And head out for a little place called Carey Park.
For a nickel a ride we could ride all day.
Daddy would laugh and Mama would say,
Meet us back at the fountain, before it turns dark.
The rides were plenty, the food was great.
I'd race my brother for the best pony and then,
We'd head out for that long train ride,
That would lap around the park and we'd grin.
It was all about Sunday in Hutchinson.
We'd wait all week, for that day to begin.
Now the rides are gone, and not much remains.
Just the great big fire truck, and memories of then.
I hear they'll bring them back, then I hear they will not.
The folks who control money, left their childhood behind.
With no memories of music, and laughter in the air,
Think it's a foolish way, to spend money and time,
On things that make memories, like yours and mine.
So my children, and theirs, will never see,
The carousel full of excitement, laughter and the thrills.
The Sundays where love and friendships fills,
My little home town and the park called "Carey".
©Sheryl McMillan 5/15/2004
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