Cary Briel

It’s just a room,
Of many- Of zillions perhaps,
The kind that’s designed
For baseballs and caps;

The kind that was made
For model airplanes,
For coloring books
And miniature trains;

The kind that has shelves,
Glorious shelves! lining the walls;
Each little item
To little heart calls;

How loudly it calls!
No matter the size
Of kid that it carts,
No matter the guise;

It always remembers
Its true resting place;
It isn’t among
The rats in the race;

It isn’t among
The strong or the wise;
Nor mortgages, condos,
Politics, lies;

The heart does remember
The magic it knew,
Before someone fooled it,
Diminished its view.