Toys - Poem by Morgan Michaels
First unwrapped, each thinks itself best
prettiest, priciest, diciest,
to dress and undress.
Every year come more and more-
bumped from the shelf, they fall to the floor
and lay still.
Or get dropped
a purple while in the dark box,
musty, dusty, worn-out toys.
Only a few: the favorites,
peer year upon year, from within the cabinets
Comments about Toys by Morgan Michaels
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You