As a child I loved to ride the carousel. Round and round I would go . My hair a horses mane flowing in the wind. Up - down the wooden horse and I went. The horses metal pole making a creaking sound, as the mighty steed , and I fought to break free. I grasped the wooden horses neck, whispering in its ear faster faster. One more time around the carousel, and my horse and I were loose. I held tightly to his back, no one could catch us now. We were free spirts zipping in the wind, riding on a trail of stardust. One summer many years later I captured my niece riding the carousel. There she was gliding past me on a horse like Zebra. Her dream ride was written on her face, and in the pose of her arm. She was a star, waving to her fans. The carousel lights streaming behind her. We are all dream riders. What is your dream ride? Have you followed your dream?.