He screamed. He was tired. He wasn’t feeling well.
I cajoled. Tried distraction. Wasn’t feeling much better.
Impatience and irritation was giving way to desolation and despair.
Until…
At blessed long last…
The floor gave a jolt.
The music began.
The glossy beetle plunged, then soared.
He gasped. Beamed. Shouted with toddler glee.
And only the lights of the carousel
could trace the tracks of his forgotten tears.
Writing Me Home 
I was as surprised as he must have been, only I wasn’t crying but there might have been some beaming from me near the end, too. Nicely crafted.
I love the ending! you surprised me.
I wish I could have seen his glee! Loved the video… As usual your writing made me feel like I was there!
Awesome poem, great imagery, with a hint of mystery and crypticness. I can see your boy in reading your words. Powerful look at childhood.