Madness is in the eye of the beholder,
\nsaid a man who lived in a toy box.
\nIt’s accepted when a kid or much, much older.
\nIn the interval between, it shocks.
\nHis walls once were Lincoln Logs and Plastic Bricks.
\nEach toy in his box had their peculiar tricks.
\nHe would play all day in quietude quite deep,
\nexcept for forced interludes of food and sleep.
\nWhen asked who were favorites from amongst his friends,
\nhe said one-armed soldier and strange thing that bends.
\nHolidays and birthdays filled him up with joy
\nwhen he introduced to that box his new toy.
\nThen came dreaded school and time was regulated.
\nHomework was priority, play now berated.
\nSoon was introduced a glove and baseball bat.
\nHis toy box was closeted; imagine that.
\nHis room filled with baseball cards and model cars.
\nWalls were tacked with athletes and music stars.
\nHe bought 45’s, "Hound Dog" and One Fine Day."
\nThat toy box was sealed with tape and put away.
\nDecades passed and he had children of his own.
\nNone of them reacted when his box was shown.
\nStuff today lit up, moved and made lots of noise.
\nTo them it was just a coffin of dead toys.
\nMany years went by, now he’s back in his box,
\nhaving gone through several strokes and aftershocks.
\nWooly Willie’s on his shelf with Slinky and those men of tin.
\nNow it is acceptable for him to be a child again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"