The Carnival After Midnight

The Carnival After Midnight

The carnival after midnight waits for no one.

The tents glow with strange electric dreams.

Laughter hides behind the curtain’s edge,

and every mirror tells a different truth.

A man in silver speaks without moving.

His eyes are moons that never blink.

He offers a coin that shines like sorrow,

and I take it, because I always do.

Music spills from an unseen door.

It smells of sugar and broken time.

A girl dances alone beneath a crooked sign,

her smile carved from yesterday.

When the lights die, I am still there.

The carnival vanishes, the field goes dark.

Only the coin remains, warm in my hand,

and the faint echo of someone clapping once.