In adult minds, toys are an annoyance
A constant reminder of the stupidity of youth
Scattered about a kitchen floor
Because the mindlessness of youth leaves us
To clean up behind them
Why can’t toys pick themselves up?
In teenage minds, toys are things to be shunned
When everything is a masquerade, a performance
Play your part and you won’t be booed
Don’t show your real self, keep it hidden behind
An elaborate, sequined, purple mask
Why can’t toys stay hidden?
In child minds, toys are a friend
A companion during endless afternoon naps
A sanctuary from the grown-ups
Who look down and click their tongues
Who ignore the care-free mind of a child
Why can’t toys speak?
When we pack away our artificial friends
Hiding them under beds, storing in old cardboard boxes
They cling to the innocence we deliberately purge
They believe we can still laugh, still cry, still smile
As they sit and wait and collect dust
Clutching the thread of hope in their little plastic hands
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