by Nick Gisburne
Paraded as a perfect piece of art
A trophy for the famous, for a star
A toy, to tease a craving of the heart
The jealous watch and wonder from afar
So quickly overlooked, forgotten now
Ignored among the shifting shades of night
The magic, rich and rare, is lost, somehow
And nothing can return it to the light
The toy, the trinket, battered and abused
Is left among the garbage on the street
She finds a road to nowhere, cold, confused
And follows in the footsteps of defeat
A broken toy, replaced by something new
She knows that there is nothing she can do
