ELEVEN

For  eleven days in September the magic  appears and then it is gone ,  As children we could hardly wait till that special time when or dreams come true, and new ones were made. The smells of popcorn can always bring those memories back to quicken our hearts.  The girls sheepishly wishing for that special boy to win that big stuffed toy so she could carrie it around with pride. The boys with their eyes sparkling just knowing their girl is beside them as they go take their seat for the next ride.  Those crisp evenings that held mistery and magic, and nothing could spoil that special time. Each year our steps get slower and the noise gets softer, and the rides are left to the young. As the smells drift by my heart picks up the beat, for those eleven days are coming to a close and the smile on my face will remain till once more the lights are turned on at the Fair.