Midst a jumble of toys lies the broken toy auto bank,
One of my favorite playthings, it occupied highest rank.
Recalling pleasurable deposits, watching my fortune rise
A heaped pile of notes and coins increasing before my eyes.
Then my distress when I realised that my toy bank was broken,
When it could not open and would not accept another token,
After lots of tinkering and trying , I eventually forced it open.
Of my sense of loss and sorrow,I have never a word spoken.
Yet I have refused to throw it away, still hoping for its repair.
Here I sit filled with fond memories and some of despair.
This toy symbolizes many things in my life that matter to me,
Investment of time, energy and emotions and the toll fee.
How much toil and sacrifices made for this account?
To what interest and dividends do my investments amount?
Of the pleasure and the pain, the highs and the lows of my life,
I tally the achievements, the sad and lonely times and the strife.
Rather than throw it away, I prefer to gift wrap it to keep.
Even though there is much in it that still makes me weep,
There are also prized memories, fun times that it captures.
It holds the essence of who I am and my life’s sacred raptures.
I still fervently hope that one day, it will ring open again
And in so doing will ease some of my solitary pain,
That it will allow me to withdraw from the remaining reserve
And give back to me the returns and dues that I deserve.