Poetry

The Toy Box

I found you right where I left you
But you weren’t broken anymore
You were clean with fresh paint
You were serviced and oiled
You smelled good and familiar
I found you ready to be picked up
And I hesitated, soaking you all in
Whole again and brand new
A second chance to impress and win
An opportunity to forgive and forget
The rusted nails were replaced
The sharp edges attentively sanded down
And you were just like new
But better than that you were smiling
I don’t know how you fell out of the toy box

And you were looking at me
But something didn’t feel right
The same old sparkle was in your eye
And a kind of accustomed loathing
You couldn’t see that I was fixed too
That my broken buckles were shiny again
You saw the tiniest remnants of glue
And the new coat of varnish
Choosing not to look onwards or upwards
I was a just an old toy with no new purpose
You only remembered the scratches
And unintentional gouges from time-worn corners
You weren’t optimistic about my tightened screws
Just cold and cautious of a past long-gone
You jumped out of the toy box all on your own
Despite your contrived preaching of sparkly and cool
You watched me change and didn’t believe in change at all

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3 thoughts on “The Toy Box

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