My Toys. And Me

When I was young, on parents’ knee,

My toys didn’t mean a lot to me,

They'd cause distraction, nothing more,

In fact, most ended on the floor,

But as I grew, my love did, too,

My toys, they numbered not a few . . .

I’d stuffies, more than I could count,

And all things ‘horse’ were paramount,

I’d play-doh, made to squish and roll,

And chains of candy, dolls of ‘troll’,

Some games and books and sets of things,

And Lego and the joys that brings,

Some wooden toys my papa made,

And things from Mama, there displayed,

A doll or two, the ‘Barbie’ kind,

And toys to power up, or wind,

Some instruments for music. Good,

More Lego, just because I could.

And puzzles, not a few, a ton!

And models gathered one by one.

As I grew up, my toys did, too,

Though I was keeping just a few,

My Lego came along with me,

And books and puzzles, sets for tea,

And years have passed, my playing days,

Have passed me in a blurry haze.

My joy comes, not from playing now,

It’s hard to kneel down anyhow,

But playing days, I do not grief,

Cause I watch grandkids make believe.

Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we three besought,
To try to make the week begin
With pleasant thoughts--perhaps a grin?
So Jenny and Delores, we,
Have posted poems for you to see.
And now you've seen what we have brought . . .
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Next week, by memories above,
We'll talk of houses that we've loved...