Spinning round and round,
my feet never even touching the ground.
The cold metal held tight in my hand,
not knowing which direction I will land.
The September winds pick up speed
as my spinning takes the lead.
Im still out here, even in this cold whether,
spinning round, where everything can mesh together.
The climax is over, its winding down,
to the same yard, time, and town.
The feeling in my hands have gone away.
My vision, once blurry, comes to a bay.
Sobriety comes crashing in,
I wish I could feel like that again.