Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Porcelain Doll

(From a photo. A woman had lost her daughter to violence and had left the room untouched since then.)

Porcelain Doll that sits high on the shelf,
Yellow dress fading and turning to gray.
Alone these long years she sits by herself,
Watching each night fading slowly to day.

Beloved possession, cherished no more,
Her azure stained eyes unable to cry.
Ever she watches a closed and locked door
In a room where shadowed memories lie.

Little girl gone, safe from a harsh hand,
Asleep while the angels watch over her rest,
And Porcelain Doll sits on a high stand
In a home where laughter no longer exists.

The smile in a voice, touch of a small hand,
Will lighten the shadows in her dark room,
While Porcelain Doll waits on her high stand
For the loving child she hopes will come soon.

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December 28, 2013 - Posted by | Poetry

1 Comment »

  1. I love this poem…reminds me of my doll…
    Thanks,
    Cousin Carla

    Comment by Carla | December 28, 2013 | Reply


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