Toy Soldiers

Stiff and solid boots prance above the meadow

They echo so a marching call barked by this small fellow.

Warriors of an old republic beam and mount

As the enemy tells them not to scream or shout.

These war machines click and whirr

Only to find an opponent confident and sure.

Booms and shrieks fill the air while blasts and shots exchange the heat.

When all seems lost, a hero appears

Her saber so brilliantly colored it fills the evil with fears.

A laughter caps the end while reminiscing sets in.

A glow fills within, oh how these summer days consist of them.

Once all is said and done, a call of supper ends all the fun.

These warriors become still once more,

For the elders wish it to be according to a chore.

Though away they may be, tomorrow will always beckon me.

Each day a new adventure comes alive, so long as the author returns to contrive.

• This poem is a look into a child's life. It looks back into one's past when playtime was filled with adventure, action, fantasy, etcetera and takes a look at growing up and how it changes your world. Everyday your toys would wait for you until slowly you return to them less and less.