A Memorial Poem To John Angelo Petrone

A Room Above The Carousel

Written by his wife Janice in 1982

There is a room I remember well
upstairs from a bar called the Carousel.
You took me there one summer's night while
outside the window colors flashed from a neon light.

What was I thinking as I climbed the stair
so naive in my eigteenth year.
The door opened into that little room,
dark, dingy and reeking of gloom.

Are girls of eighteen really so blind?
This wasn't at all what I'd had in mind.
Where is the lovely breath of Spring
and the prince who will someday be my King.
Look at what I had instead,
a dingy room with only a bed.
I was so depressed as you
helped me get undressed.
You brushed away a tear and told me
that from you I had nothing to fear.

You did your very best from that day on
you taught me how to love and laugh and live...
you had so very much to give!

There is just one thing you didn't do,
teach me how to live without you.
Although I once thought it hell now my eyes with tears do swell
whenever I think of the room upstairs from the bar called the Carousel.


If you wish to write Janice you can find her at: [email protected]
mail welcome

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Crisis, Grief, and Healing: Tom Golden LCSW