Oh Thing

Oh thing
You needn't sing, bling, or take wing
My son hoards you
Insists you come to the market
Whines Mine!

No matter what you are

Oh thing
Today, you were a black plastic hairclip
Yesterday, a key of unknown locks on a ragged string
Tomorrow, a straw, not even bendy

Oh thing
How is it for you to rest in a wee, sweaty grip for hours?
To be part of a 2-year-old's who-ness
To be fought over
Exalted?

Well, revel in it, thing.

You'll not captivate forever
Swimming under my son's skin is a self
He'll shed you and soar
Flesh, bones, brain, heart, and soul
No thing will define this boy for long.