Toys
First unwrapped, each thinks itself best
prettiest, priciest, diciest,
to dress and undress.
Every year come more and more-
bumped from the shelf, they fall to the floor
and lay still.
Or get dropped
a purple while in the dark box,
musty, dusty, worn-out toys.
Only a few: the favorites,
peer year upon year, from the cabinets
unblinking, smiling.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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