In our childhoods the biggest want and the most creative entertainment
Were toys
We whined
We pined
We begged
We even bartered outrageously
That we might serendipitously
Find the strings
The felt cloth
The plastic so pristine
Under a tree
Or under our beds
Or behind the backs of those who love us
But even hours go by and
The plastic shatters
The felt tears
The strings snap
And the most regretful of all things
The dust settles