You made it clear you were leaving--
Yowls in the sandbox
proclamations from your clubhouse
declarations of independence posted 'round your home
--and you were taking your toys with you
There had been precedents.
And though I didn't know you,
or particularly care if you stayed,
I dutifully combed through your possessions, surveyed and mapped every artifact
carved out a space in my vault to hold them,
and meticulously re-made your treasures,
line by line,
curve by curve,
so that they sat in my hand as perfect copies,
not so much a remembrance as insurance
And then I waited for you to go.
And you did...
but you left your toys behind.
A week later you came back, silently. Fuming? Humbled? Medicated?
No one asked, and you didn't tell.
I see you here, on the edges of the playground. Not saying a word, watching us jump rope and throw balls and call out our taunts and rhymes. You've been standing on the sidelines for five years with your silent presence.
So here's my invitation:
go home already.
You could do with a change of scenery.
And I need the space.