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Literature Text
It’s twilight, fantasmic is done.
The crowds have left, and Believe has run.
The music lingers from pirates,
A soft oboe hum.
The tree house is empty,
The only sound a rhythmic drum.
The veranda is closing, Blue Bayou’s shut it’s doors.
The gallery’s got chains up, cast members sweep the floors.
The rail car’s bell clangs, as the engine roared.
An engineer’s welcome calling for all aboard!
The mansion’s letting out the last riders from a scare.
It’s closing time, in New Orleans Square.
The crowds have left, and Believe has run.
The music lingers from pirates,
A soft oboe hum.
The tree house is empty,
The only sound a rhythmic drum.
The veranda is closing, Blue Bayou’s shut it’s doors.
The gallery’s got chains up, cast members sweep the floors.
The rail car’s bell clangs, as the engine roared.
An engineer’s welcome calling for all aboard!
The mansion’s letting out the last riders from a scare.
It’s closing time, in New Orleans Square.
A poem about my favorite lace in teh universe, New Orleans Square in Disneyland, and the most humble, most fulfilling, most sad, most happy to be finished, and most memorble time at New Orleans Square, closing time. When there are no crowds, and soft street lamp light dances on your eyes.
© 2005 - 2024 AeonDesika
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