Mr. Potato Head, Lincoln Logs and Legos

Mr. Potato Head, Lincoln Logs, and Legos,

an Erector set, and GI Joe, an American Hero,

little plastic men, soldiers and farmers

and their little plastic animals and tractors,

jeeps and tanks, and matchbox cars and Tonka Trucks,

electric trains and cars, bats and balls

and gloves, hand-me-down bikes, a toy wagon, skates

and skis, and books and games, the Game of Life,

Parcheesi, Mouse Trap, Twister, Candy Land

and Uncle Wiggly, a roll of the dice advancing,

and cards, shuffled and dealt, a luck of the draw,

Old Maid, Go Fish, Solitaire, playing alone, 

and a bed-full of stuffed creatures at bedtime,

Lassie and Smokey and Yogi Bear, and a stuffed elephant,

a birth toy once pink and gray and plush,

the only one to last past childhood,

a childhood filled with toys, like innocence,

long since lost or discarded, all but

an old gray elephant, faded, patched, and repaired,

the only one surviving to keep me company

in the waning years of age.