Posted by Claudia Moser on 7:09 AM in
Blogging For Fun, another week's challenge, this time based on the picture below:

Sometime ago I found a poem which I believe describes best what a child feels like while on the ride.

by Dahlia Rose

He stands so still,
He never moves
As all the others
Stamp their hooves.
Up and down,
They go again,
But he stands still
Even then.
The kids refuse
To ride on him,
His paint is old,
His eyes are dim.
But one small child
He knows will be
there to ride
At half past three.
The little boy
Sits so still.
He can't walk,
He never will.
But, that old horse,
He can ride,
With his mother
By his side.
Today he says
That he's a knight.
This hoses, his steed,
Is his delight.
When nighttime comes
And bright lights dim
You'd think that you
Could see him grin.
Because this horse
Has brought such joy
To that special
Little boy.

And on a personal note, this is one my friend's boy enjoying his ride together with his mother, priceless right?



My grandson would only ride the carousel horse that was stationary for years...felt safest there!
What a charming poem...thanks!

Love the merry-go-round! Am I too old to ride the horses? It's actually one of the few rides that is at my speed.


@Sush - I am sure that most of boys have wonderful memories in respect to carousel rides :)
@Karen - it is a wonderful poem indeed!
@Joyce - too old? Never :=)

Great poem and such a cute photo of your friend and her little boy!

@Emma - thank you, the little Moritz is very cute indeed!

What a lovely poem!

@Belle - yes it is and a wonderful find!

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Thank you for your comments, I appreciate them all!


"A story is not like a road to follow … it's more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you."
by Alice Munro

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