6 May 2012
The doll stands in my wardrobe A sentry to the years, As a babe in my dear mother's arms To my angsty, teenage tears.
She once held pride of place In my ever-changing world. Shepherds crook and porcelain, Bonnet, tawny curls.
But age made me forget her. 'I'm all growed up.' I said And that bonny doll who stood by me, With whom I often played
Was thrust into the darkness, With only mem'ries to recall The happy girl who smiled on her Though barely four foot tall.
The way they spent the summer days In tree tops, hedgerows, fields And winter months before the fire, Marshmallow sticks to wield.
But now she looks upon me, And I gaze at her too, Wondering if she ever liked The newfound woody view
And if after years of darkness Remembering happy, country lanes The face the doll now beholds Is different, or the same.
The Doll • Opuss № I