The Tattooed Stranger at the Fairground
He took me for a Waltzer Ride
The Tattooed Stranger at the Fairground
He stood by the ghost train,
sleeves rolled high,
ink curling up his arms
like it wanted to speak
I’d gone for chips
and maybe a laugh,
but he looked at me
like I was already late
He flicked his lighter once,
twice,
then held it to a roll-up
like lighting fire was just habit
No hello,
no name,
just a look
that pinned me in place
We walked the stalls,
shoulder to shoulder,
never touched,
but I felt him in my bones
He guessed my star sign right,
stole a toffee apple
from a kid who never noticed,
and grinned like a man
who had never paid for anything twice
I should’ve gone home
when the music cut out,
but he said
Waltzer’s still open
and that was enough
He held the bar with one hand,
held my gaze with the other,
and when the ride spun,
I forgot my own name
I never saw him again,
no shock there,
but sometimes
when I catch the scent of petrol and sugar,
my stomach flips
like it did that night
He was just a passing stranger at the fair
who had taken me for a ride.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (4)
This is electric — a perfect blend of danger, nostalgia, and fleeting magic. It reads like a memory you never meant to keep but can’t quite let go of. The scent of petrol and sugar will hit differently now.
A wonderfully romantic tale of now you are here, now you are gone. Happens all the time to me in my dreams 😊😊
good
gorgeous!