A Box of Broken Toy Soldiers



Yesterday I opened my front door and stepped out into a box of broken toy soldiers.
They limped along the construction paper streets or lay shell-shocked on their cardboard beds.

I did my best to help.
I cut holes in the walls to let the light in.
I added an army of paper doll nurses.
I fashioned crutches out of clothes hangers.
I tried to glue on artificial limbs.

But I could not find a way to end the war
and when I looked up from my box of broken toy soldiers, I saw a million more.

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