Last Memory Of A Child Poem by Paul O'Brien

Within the deep corridors of a boy’s subterranean shelter
A plastic memory lies on an azure cushion
He stares at with deep understanding,
touched and sentimental,
observing each of its flaws
Its hilt black and chipped
Sprouting unneeded details, though molded perfectly
From its one side, a scarlet blade blossomed
Though even that was dulling into a sickly orange
And on the tip of this once durable tube
It slanted awkwardly, held together by meager beige gauge
On the outside, it burns within one’s mind an image of childishness
The pseudo-science which gave birth to it, known by all
But on the insides, one envisions the imagination of the adolescent
Placing his two hands on the “lethal” gimmick
His mind then ignited, his happiness a byproduct
All the he loves created from such simplistic purpose
A man is born from this immortal toy