Toy boy

Along the footpath shallow commercial street
Selling soft toys, handy craft
A cute young lady stares at a toy boy
Looks dumb, looks baffled, looks tart

Toy boy and his dream, way back in the woods
So ordinary and laughable never told other toys, soo shy
Wants to live all alone, no-sun side of mountains
Not much to worry, if he lives or fly’s

The other side of busy road
Stands the hotel grand, white long- long curtain
Behind them sits the writer
Trying to guess it right, make it all go very-very certain

As a poet I stay quite
But as a reader
You must have guessed, what will happen