_Play Within A Play_
Mother always asked after dinner
If anyone wanted to play the game,
And when the dishes were drying,
Father would pull down the cardboard box
Filled with metal pieces,
Dozens of green houses and the red hotels.

Sister always chose the horse,
Brother grabbed the race car,
Mother plucked the thimble
And Father grasped the iron.

Each beginning was the same,
Mother quickly buying the purple and violet.
Brother always seemed to land on the jail square,
Sister never won second place in the beauty pageant,
And Father always cursed when he paid the utilities.

As dessert time approached,
Mother always held on to her houses,
Father mortgaged his properties to buy Boardwalk,
Sister kept riding the Reading Railroad
And Brother failed to find the jail-free cards.

By bedtime the game was over,
Each familiar move played out.
Father was deep in mortgage,
Brother was still trying to roll doubles
Or find the elusive get-out-jail card,
Sister smiled as she paid her rent for the last time,
And Mother sighed as she stroked the thimble.