In the Toy Shop

In the rainbow boxes of preference,
they each are
an object of reference,
a getaway to the different world of imagination and dream
filled with ferries and angels of glorious themes:

Danseuses that their dances have never ended,
momentums, forever, in their prime suspended.
Princes and princesses of unknown terrains
in various trains of strains.
Glorious kings matched up with their majestic queens.

This little world of not very corresponding figures of figurines,
in their proportion
though not in the notion.
These still pantomimes of commotion
yet all synchronized in some historic, mythic or magical sparks of emotions,
inside the ornamental effigy jars of seductive potion
in these diminutive bombastic objects of devotion,
coming together
in a simple harmonic motion:

a woman embracing the air in her hair,
a soldier
fighting for fair,
a knight dashing to dare,
lions grouching to scare,
a world of so many differences, put forward to share:
They all exist, in their stillness's disguise,
They all are together, yet each one is an indication to the different world of marvel and size,
a getaway to another funfair of mind's eyes:

midgets mocking and cows are mowing and dogs are awaiting their barks,
children are playful in their fancy little boxes of ecstasy,
leaking and falling to another trough of department:
fantasy!