Little Red Roller Coaster

Christmas Gift from Santa Claus when I was a child

It was a little wind-up red roller coaster

no bigger than my mom's kitchen toaster;

it was a Christmas gift given only to me

by Santa Claus; I was happy as could be.

I would wind that little thing up all the time;

it gave me so much joy, I thought it sublime.

My mom smiled; I played with it so much;

it was hardly ever out of my playful touch.

The roller coaster was happy to be of use,

the pretend people loved it's wild abuse

laughing and screaming in the up and down

where no one wore a petrified frown.

The red seats on the tracks clacked to the top

to the shouts of all when it came to a stop

then glided swiftly down in their thrilling ride

I kept them all tucked, strapped safely inside.

Can't say I remember when I outgrew that toy,

could've been when my first crush with a boy

made me grow up quickly, sadly almost overnight

letting my cashe go, moving forward, in hindsight.

My little roller coaster, silly as it may seem, is

part of who I am now, a miniscule tiny fizz;

each part of life lived formulates who it is we are

and shall continue 'til reaching that elusive star,

the door of my fond-fun memory, always left ajar.