The day that you forget a toy,
You cannot know what you’ve just learned.
For much that is little is everything:
Still toys get tossed, and pages — turned.
It’s under neglect that the rust sets in,
As the elements batter what’s already strained;
I find an old truck on the edge of the yard,
And suddenly, I feel the knowledge gained:
To know what it means to be left all alone,
When the playtime is done and your purpose is served;
To know that you did what is now done to you,
And that these surroundings are what