When our kids where little it was our attention that they would seek
And so we’d set aside a night for games in the middle of each week.
Each Wednesday we would all sit down just to play a game,
Life, Scrabble or Monopoly to us they were all the same.
We would spend the night laughing and eating hot buttered corn,
Rolling dice or spinning wheels with pieces well used and worn.
One day our son told us that he’d invented a game to play,
One that he wanted us all to try out on our next game day.
When the time came we all sat down to see the game he’d made,
To learn the rules so we’d all know exactly how it played.
He opened up the board to reveal the spaces that he’d laid out,
A path that seemed to take its time as it meandered along the route.
There were extra branches of spaces that shot off to the side,
They had no real purpose in the game but they beckoned to be tried.
There was a spinner that he’d made and a pair of bright red dice,
Two stacks of special cards to draw one called naughty the other nice.
The hand drawn spaces looped around and then they doubled back,
Connecting up once again just like a Christmas railroad track.
There was paper money that he’d made and a shoebox for a bank,
And a basket filled with numbered tiles that was turned by a crank.
There were bits and pieces of lots of games that he had put together,
Some other stuff like a polished stone and a treasured Blue Jay feather.
Once he had it the way he wanted he said that we could start the game,
So I asked him what were the rules of play and did it have a name?