That little orange truck that barely went across the floor,
It’s wobbly, plastic wheels rode poor.
It barely meant a thing, even in my core.
Until you took it from me.

I would have lost it on my own,
But I didn’t have a chance, it was blown.
Now I care for it down to the bone.
When you took it, you took my respect.

Alone, I now sit, without a toy at all.
Staring into the void and at the wall.
Now all I can do, out to you, I call,
“Bring it back! (Bring her back!)”