Another 100 years

Little wheels of fear
smudged thumb faces
dashed-off eyes and 
darkening moods, when I see
how we played, I shrink
from hope. 

I smiled too long today

and lost the will

to continue. I played too.

Toys that grind and pull

and break.

Something bad has happened,

the string snapped in the bath.

It was with us, and it is gone.

We’re drowning

while brittle tin woodsmen look on.

I don’t feel the way I did

but I do feel the way I felt

before that, I think I had

those selfsame paper dolls

I think I had so much,

I think I might be wrong