You ask what was my favourite toy,
When I was growing up a boy.
I grew up during WW2,
When things were scarce; and toys were few.

So it has to be my imagination.

I’d listen to the news on our radio,
Wondering which way the war would go.
Of how the Allies did advance,
Through our neighbour country France.

Hoping in the end we would win.

I’d thrill to the news of our fighter planes,
Of the enemy losses, and all our gains.
With arms outstretched, I’d circle the room,
As I'd jink and dive, and upward zoom.

Imagining a death-defying dogfight.

I’d watch as the Hun went down in flames,
Another victim of my imaginary games.
Never once feeling an ounce of pity,
For one of those that had bombed my city.

But then the war ended.

So when I consider my favourite toy,
And I’ve long since ceased to be a boy.
But they are memories that will remain,
Of all the good times, but never the pain.

And of course, I still have my imagination.