The imagination of a child's mind.
The sun dips low, a golden stain,
Against the nursery window pane,
And while the house is hushed and deep,
The toys awaken from their sleep.
The porcelain girl with painted gaze
Steps softly from the velvet haze;
Her stiffened joints, once bound by wire,
Now dance before the phantom fire.
The teddy bear, with button eyes,
Unfolds his trust in mild surprise,
To find his stitched and cotton paws
Obeying no physics, no gravity’s laws.
They whisper secrets, sharp and sweet,
With tip-toe clicks of plastic feet,
Holding a banquet of make-believe
On plates that only dreams conceive.
The soldier drops his rusted blade
To join the tea-time masquerade,
As shadows stretch and spirits bloom
In the silent theater of the room.
The child lies still, a heavy breath,
Unaware of this rhythmic stealth—
How ribbons drift and buttons blink,
And wooden dolls begin to think.
They curate worlds of star and stone
In a kingdom they call all their own,
Until the morning’s gray-blue light
Turns magic back to mere delight.
And if you find them, slightly turned,
Or see a candle faintly burned,
Or notice that the velvet bear
Is sitting in a different chair—
Do not wonder, do not pry,
At the glint within a glass-bead eye;
For when the world is tucked in bed,
The child lives on in all they’ve said.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: April 24th, 2026 07:45
- Comment from author about the poem: As a child, I possessed a remarkably vibrant imagination, in which my beloved baby dolls and teddy bears would spring to life whenever I drifted off to sleep or stepped out of my bedroom; I'd even lovingly prepare bedtime snacks for them. However, My Mom and Dad would sweetly inform me that they didn't dine either at night or during the day, instead choosing to visit the kitchen on their own to satisfy their hunger. Though their nocturnal exploits remained a delightful mystery, I cherished the magic of those childhood days, where the boundaries of reality were blissfully blurred, and wonder awaited around every corner.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson), sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments4
beautiful and a fave
Thank you
most welcome
My childhood imagination was too much to cohabit with. Probably a big factor why poetry took me in and gave me my sanity back 🙏🏻🕊️
Thank you
Welcome
Cute and most childlike this poem well rhymed and metered with great flow tells the fantasy of a child's mind. A fave
Thank you
You are most welcome my friend
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