Blame Game

In the attic, dust swims through the air,

a box of toys reveals my childhood flare.

I stumble on fragments, shards of a frog,

moments turned muddy in a haze of the fog.

Cheeks flushed with shame, a memory’s sting,

that porcelain treasure, my shame, the dog’s spring.

Fingers itching to point at the dog’s fault,

but it was my clumsiness, my careless assault.

I heard laughter still echo, just out of reach,

while my heart tried to argue, taught nothing, to teach.

Innocence swirls in the tale I once spun,

blame left in the shadows, now the lie weighs a ton.