Games, Toys, and Selfish Little BoysA Poem by StephMichellePlayful but honestI see a pattern Like careful stitching in a quilt, a tune replaying softly in the background, or a cycle I just can't seem to shake. Come to think of it, It's more like a curse. Cursed indefinitely to be stuck in the sand box-playground stage of relationships. And in the midst of this childlike madness, curiosity clouds my judgement. So I turn over another pail, another shovel, searching for a companion only to find...little boys.
Little boys whose favorite pass time is playing games. Once again, I'm swept off my feet by the sweet taunting of his tempting words only to land right smack in the center of a tournament of "tag". Cat and mouse breathless and running to catch a glimpse of surrender, a glimpse of affection, and right when he's at the tips of my fingers just barely within my reach... he bolts for the door.
It's then when I can catch my breath and I realize playtime gets old. I'd like a grown up. A man. Someone who drinks coffee and watches the news and can conversate about philosophy and his favorite book by Dr. Seuss, and not about the games he'd like to play with his "toys". I want him to tell me how beautiful I am, not referring to my face or figure but rather to what I do, how I think, and what I believe in. I don't want a play date, I want quality time. And I'd like him to let me catch him every now and then when we play our game of "tag".
But until I find him, I sit down dressing the wounds of my scraped knees and bruised heart, dreaming of the day I'll leave this sandbox and drop little boys like a bad habit. © 2012 StephMichelleReviews
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Added on July 27, 2012Last Updated on July 27, 2012 AuthorStephMichelleEaston, PAAboutComing from a rougher place I see my world in a broader perspective. My story is best told by poetry, and I enjoy sharing with those willing to listen. more..Writing
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