Written by Lynn White

Imagine a sitting room peopled with dolls
an attic space filled with toy trains and cars
adult places filled with children’s playthings
passive playthings
out of their time
and moved on
into a time
when even the box
with it’s wrappings
and writings
fails to excite us
creating
no spark,
no glamour,
only memories
in passing,
entrapped
as time
moves
on.