|
A
Ball once rolled on the ground,
Children chasing it along.
Down the road,
Eventually
Forcing it into hiding.
Grown up now, the once
High-spirited children are
Intrigued by new forms of play.
Jousting competitions are gone and the
Kings and queens have lost their crowns.
Lions, once feared by all, are stuffed in boxes under the bed,
Mingling with
Nap sacks from kindergarten and
Off the memories radar.
Play time’s over, so
Quietly the
Ragged,
Scattered
Toys wait,
Underneath the
Veils of childhood
Wondering when their time will come again. From
Xylophones to
Yo-yos to
Zigzagging Tonka trucks.
|
