When I was but a tiny tot,
Alone in my room
With just my thoughts
I’d pick a pleasant spacious spot
To pop a squat and play all day
With my many Lego blocks.
From my building block treasure box
I’d pull puzzle-pieces of my thoughts
And attach them with imagination
Laying the foundations
Of my fantastical creations.
With my magic mental building blocks
I’d devise intricate weaving plots
In which dragons’ treasure was sought
By heroes, born in war-torn lands,
Who gallant fought upon the sand
To the call of trumpet horns
And valiant fall were mourned
By forlorn strings of harpsichords.
I’d lose myself in time and space,
And sail away to a different place
Weaving tapestries with aesthetic grace
Of me as both lord and peasant
As long as I was no longer in the present
But aloft on the wings of my minds’ epic.
Now these worlds are little more than memories
Forever locked in my treasure box.
In my mind they wait for the day
The child in me will come and play
And remember the true joy
Of creation with my imagination
And my many Lego blocks.
I’ve been tinkering with the piece for about a year. It is nowhere near finished, but I wanted to put this draft out there. If you see potential, have suggestions, thoughts, or any sort of ideas, let me know!