The Toy Room

Lyrics

Up here, the air is thin and smells like yesterday's sunlight.
There's a door on the blueprints, and then there's this one.

I start from the Attic Landing, where the dust keeps a perfect record.
To the left, the headless chorus in the Dress Form Room.
To the right, The Letter Room breathes out the dry taste of old promises.
I walk faster past the chill coming from the door with the brass plate.
I don't need to see the glass-eyed parliament in The Taxidermy Room today.
I am looking for the door without a name.

Here. Low and small, no keyhole.
It opens under my hand like it was never closed.
And inside, the laws of the house are suspended.
Gravity is just a suggestion.
Time is a spool of thread, unwound on the floor.

Welcome to the Toy Room. Population: constant.
The tin soldiers are fighting a war they declared in 1928.
The rocking horse is still waiting for a signal to charge.
And in the corner, the dollhouse.
It’s this mansion, nail for nail, window for window.
Inside its tiny attic, another, smaller dollhouse waits.

I know these faces. The bear with one button eye who saw everything.
The porcelain doll with a hairline crack across her cheek, a map of a quiet tragedy.
The game board on the floor, checkers mid-jump.
Nobody won. Nobody ever wins.
They just pause for a century.
The sound of a glass marble on the floorboards...
...it has the taste of black licorice.

Was I the one who set the soldiers in their lines?
Or was I the doll, watching from the wicker chair?
I remember remembering that day, which is the same as being there.
The little girl in the dollhouse... her face is mine.
She is moving a tiny me into the tiny Toy Room.
The difference closed a long time ago.

Here in the Toy Room. Population: recursive.
The tin soldiers are fighting a war against their own reflections.
The rocking horse is galloping through a forest of splinters.
And in the corner, the dollhouse.
It’s this mansion, ache for ache, ghost for ghost.
Inside its tiny attic, the light is always on.

I back away slowly.
Leave the game unfinished.
Pull the door and it dissolves into the wall behind me.
The soldiers hold their positions.
The music box winds down, one slow note at a time.
Was there ever a door at all?