Poem: Neglected Toy - Ronald W. Hull

The Neglected Toy

I was crafted long ago in a faraway land.
>From the finest materials with loving care.
The skill that made me was handed down,
With secrets never shared.

Shaped and honed with strong hands.
A shining example; the epitome of art.
My parts moved with perfection,
As I made my brand new start.

In the window of that little shop,
To catch the wandering eye,
And to be scooped up,
By that rich man passing by.

At the end of his long journey,
His children to his arms.
He showered them with presents.
I, among the many charms.

They played with me a furious,
And tried to tear me up,
But I was built for the serious,
And they could not disrupt.

But they soon grew tired of me,
As is their childish way.
And I was left in mud and rain,
Outside for many a day.

The mistress washed me off,
And put me on the shelf.
Where I lay long neglected,
With a tired old stuffed elf.

And then one Christmas, the mistress,
In an act of kindness staid.
Gave me with great flourish.
To the long-suffering maid.

Wrapped in old newspaper,
Oh, what a prize I made!
They played with me with fever,
Until they too, relayed.

That they no longer wanted me,
For outdoors I soon strayed.
So when the snow came to the park,
The winter there I laid.

In the spring, a young sweet thing,
Saw me in the ice.
She chipped me out and picked me up.
Treated me real nice.

Soin the toy box I did go,
For when nieces and nephews came.
They played with me forever,
And then were gone again.

Like all maidenaunties she grew old.
Her nieces and nephews gone.
Once again neglected in my box,
She put me in the attic, alone.

She lived beyond 100,
Her house in disarray.
Her grandnephew found me.
Just after they took her away.

His kids did not like me,
I had no batteries, lights or bell.
I ended up in the garage.
The other toys called Hell.

Time came for a garage sale,
And I basked again in the sun.
Many overlooked me,
But one bought me, marked down.

Stuffed now in a closet,
Neglected once again,
I thought my life was over,
My neglect would never end.

And then my owner.took me out.
To an Antique Roadshow place.
Where I was dazzled by the lights,
And examined face to face.

So now I'm often fondled,
And talked about with grace.
About my fine patina,
>From my special place.

On the fireplace mantel,
Far from childish reach.
A toy for many seasons,
A lesson here to teach

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3/19/05

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