Accustomed

I have grown built to wait silently
To be played with by someone
A green Army man with green rifle
Standing on his green plastic helmet
At the bottom of a crackled
Red vinyl clad toy chest
A one-eyed white doll in blue dress
Perched on a high dusty shelf
In a one time child’s bedroom
Preserved as is in memoriam
The mini old rubber smelling trampoline tucked away
Like a black bullseye in the musty reaches of the garage
Alongside a rusting blue gooseneck bicycle
With fading multicolored streamers
Trailing from tiny handgrip holes
In the cracked white plastic grips
Seated on my lānai sipping a Coors Light
Waiting quietly to be played with by someone
While the sun slips past seen
Between the Wai‘anaes and the Pacific horizon line
Where darkening sky meets darkening sea
In fine disappearance going by