Poetry about small children

Where's my toy gone?
Mobil mobilan from orange peel
Horses horse from banana stem
Either way to go

Now it's hard to tell the difference
Where toys are real
All are expensive
All must be purchased at the heart shop

Forgive the price of toys now
Some are worth the salary of the minister
made of plastic or iron
Just for the prestige of a baby boy

No more creative boys
All is available
They become whiny and spoiled
The clarity of his brain was gone

Where's my old toy?
I want to see the shape
I want to remember her name
Who was once familiar with life