The Imagination

The little toy soldier stands at attention,
waiting for command.
The young boy watches his room.
It is torn apart in imaginary battle.
His mind can call all the shots,
victory or defeat.
In his right hand he holds the General,
and his left, the Lieutenant.
They mash together violently in his palms.
The clash of plastic mimics the tear of flesh.
Blood red walls surround him.
No one but the boy can hear the frightful cries of war,
so alive in the little room.
Every wall another stretch of a thousand soldiers,
every explosion drowned out by the screams of passion.
But this battle is cut short.
Dinner is ready.