This poem was originally published on 23 July 2016.

Stood on the shelf at attention,
Gazing at the orange juice sky,
The little toy soldier was fearless.
The little toy soldier was alive.

Outfitted in blue regimentals,
And equipped with a rifle and sword,
He claimed he’d been carved for anything.
But who is prepared for war?

The lad he shared his adventures with,
Brimming with wit and heart,
Was the pluckiest companion he’d ever known.
These friends could not be part.

They flew Sopwiths in the sandpits,
And were guerrillas in the garden.
They crossed pirates in the pool,
And survived the snow while starving.

They fought many battles,
And braved many perils.
They were greatly decorated,
But they did not heed the herald.

For time is a tick,
That not even the greatest swordsman,
Can attempt to parry,
The clock’s three hands.

For who would be fool enough,
To wage a war on time?
But being that fools don’t fear,
The little toy soldier would fight.

Yet no strategy or tactic,
Could bring those days back.
The lad had new devices and ventures.
It was a blue on blue attack.

Stood on the shelf at ease,
Staring at the apple cider sky,
The little toy soldier was broken.
The little toy soldier had tried.