Maybe

tangled thoughts
dance chaotically
through my head
with remembrances
of boating and biking
and car rides and
building an entire
cosmos on the floor
blocks and legos
and lincoln logs
becoming creation for
cars and wooden people.

when did we become
the wooden people?

maybe it was when
we stopped playing.

For Tim.

Maybe:  for National Poetry Month and the Writing Prompt of Poetic Asides (maybe) and NaPoWriMo.

Categories: Poetry Post-a-Day

6 comments

  1. vivinfrance said on April 11, 2011
    A lovely hark-back to childhood imaginings. It's a shame that we do become wooden people.
  2. yeuxrotos said on April 11, 2011
    My niece recently dug up our old toys and I was sad to find that the faces of our wooden people have faded. After reading your poem, it feels incredibly ominous now.
  3. Gloria said on April 12, 2011
    Wow....I just love this! Thank goodness some of us learn to play more as we get older. :) Wise and wonderful poem.
    1. Terri said on April 12, 2011
      I think we actually have to learn to play to travel into the process of authenticity! It is like growing up teaches us how to fit in and not be ourselves. Then we have to unlearn that. Crazy.
  4. trisha said on April 12, 2011
    very touching poem. i believe you are right, we become wooden toys when we cease to play.
  5. Profile photo of Renee Espriu
    espriurenee said on April 13, 2011
    I really like this piece because it is so very true. When we grow up we seem to forget how to play.

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