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
