Frayed,
Tattered,
Faded,
Gutted,
Once glorious and shiny,
Bouncy and fun,
Now all pounced on and flattened.
Some pieces missing,
No longer enjoyed,
At the bottom of the pile
In a tomb known as a toy chest,
Where they linger
Until the next spring cleaning.
Image: Pixabay
I used to love all my toys and used to cry over broken ones and the lost.
We are toys for God’s son. Let the Son play with His toys!
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Sorry – distracted by comments! You took your daughter to landfill? That’s where I’ve been going wrong with parenting – I didn’t know it was an option!
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Haha. It’s a teaching moment opportunity.
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As long as you brought her home afterward!
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Goes without saying . . . or does it? Mwahaha
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I don’t have my old toys with me anymore. But I do remember them when I see my son playing with his toys.
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Those were the days . . .
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Yup, they so were!
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R.I.P.
Oh. Never mind.
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I have a toy cemetery…I think it’s haunted.
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By your old teddy bear?
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Of course not! My teddy bear sleeps on my pillow.
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Oops, silly me!
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It’s a lot easier to cremate the toys and let the wind carry them to toy heaven. You’ve gotta be careful, though! One time I cremated a tennis ball, and it went to dog heaven instead — poor ball thought he was in toy hell.
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It got chased by a lot of dogs, I take it? Karma. The ball teased the dogs too much when it was bouncy and firm.
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Toys, like the memories connected to them, can fade and fall into disrepair…
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Yep, that’s sure how it goes. Thank goodness those days are long gone. Perhaps we need an ode to makeup tombs for my teenage daughter? 😉
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Haha. That would be a regular landfill. Goes for my daughter too.
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nice one Karina
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Thanks 🙂
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Hmmm, yes, we’ve got one of these too.
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