My mind is a carousel.

Always going up and down,

Forever spinning, never stopping.

Each train of thought is different: 

Some thoughts are fleeting horses,

Some are gloomy zebras,

Some are singing rabbits,

Some are weary lions.

At rare times they are wayward dragons,

Flying high with no one to listen to.

But even in their difference, 

they strive for the same:

To preserve infinite youth,

Innocence and memories.

My mind ting-a-lings with delight,

Feeling the ups and downs of life.