the little boy

the little boy goes to the toy store, he's not allowed to go in,
he's only allowed to look in and watch through the window
watching the other kids go in the store, watching them play
with all the toys and games,
watching them play with all those toys and games that he'd love
to have and hold and play with
kid after kid, he watches them one after another
he's just watching them from the window
in the cold or heat, in the rain or shine
wishing, dreaming, and wanting
the little boy gets older and grows up and he's no longer
at the toy store, but rather he's at the store of life
waiting and watching through the window
still not allowed to go in, only watch through that clouded window
he watches person after person go in
he watches them get all their dreams and wishes and wants fulfilled
sometimes, he moves on, floating and drifting from store to store
wandering and meandering seemingly aimlessly
often he's allowed to step one foot into the door
a tease, a taunt, a hint at the seams of dreams he's had forever
often haunted by the memories of old
"you're not allowed, you can't do that, you're not allowed"
"you are not allowed"
he still holds still, steadfast on his last remaining dream
who knows what will happen to that little boy


i'm unsure if this is complete or not
perhaps it's not, perhaps it is