A dolls eye view
Dolls sit among the cushions in her bedroom
as though they are all waiting for her.
Their porcelain faces in fixed smiles,
their eyes wide, cobalt blue
and their pretty dresses have lace collars.
Little tea cups, all in miniature are on saucers,
arranged on a small table.
There is a pot with yellow flowers,
it holds centre place and is surrounded
by plastic cakes and pastries.
On her bed is a huge rag doll,
it's flopped over and lies there helpless.
Her nightie is on the floor
covering her slippers but the toes peep out.
Soon she will return.
She will run into her bedroom, daintily,
go straight to the corner where I sit,
I, with my broken arm, my one eye
and my bald head and she will pick me up
and call me 'her baby'.
I am the first dolly she ever had,
still here, still loved after all this time
but failing now, roughened by use,
by play times, but thoroughly
and most definitely loved.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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