Toy Village

He built himself a world of toys,
Each new piece full of passion,
And added to it, year on year,
In spite of changing fashion.

I watched in wonder as a boy,
And marveled at the scale,
Imagining myself down there,
Within that lavish detail —

But all around, his family sank.
His sons and daughters wandered
To find a single hour of joy
Like those their dad had squandered.

But as a man, I wonder now,
If he their lives had wrecked,
Or if he searched for solace, and
I’d mixed cause with effect.

For all I know’s that I don’t know.
We never can be sure
About the macro lessons in
A world of


Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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