Sorting through the toy boxes
there are so many toys still like new,
never played with or learned-
the microscope complete with slides,
slices of life yet to be examined,
the race track with myriad miniature cars,
a train station complete with crossings
that signal to a village full of tiny people-
firefighters, police officers, a family like ours.
There are complete sets of action figures
weapons held securely in their hands,
one group of hero musicians
surrounded by keyboards, guitars and Bowie knives.
Language books, tapes and videos,
the first and second lessons done-
the rest go uncounted, unstudied.

It is time to give them away,
to bid farewell to dreams,
the imagined scenes of a child
who played busily with friends,
who spent hours telling stories
full of the joy of discovery.

Perhaps it is best not to see the new child,
who will soon possess these treasured dreams,
not to know whether each toy will be carefully treasured,
kept together with all its parts as a set-
not broken or lost.
Best not to see this new child growing,
learning a new skill
building a tower of three-inch long steel girders,
or magnifying the shell discarded by a molting cicada.

Better not to see a picture painted, a letter written, a name inked
upon the clean, lined paper that was bought
for the child who had no chance to fly
through the pad, colorful pictures of houses, dogs, bicycles
or a family just like ours coming to life upon each page
surrounded by a big red outline of a heart
guarded over by a multi-hued rainbow
and a bright yellow sun.