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THE DOLL
You may ask yourself this question…How important is a doll?
You may think in the scheme of life…not too important after all…
But I would beg to differ…because somehow my little girl found a way
of all the dolls upon the shelf…she picked me that day.
She chose me over all the others…it took her quite a while
I like to think there was something in my eyes…or the crookedness of my smile.
From that moment we were inseparable
Inside…outside…in any kind of weather
We played…we ran…we laughed…we drank tea
We went everywhere together.
I loved the times when she was happy…when her smile was innocent and bright
When she would toss me in the air then hug me with all her might.
I was glad to be there when she was sad…or to help her face her fears
Those times she used my only dress to wipe away her tears.
I remember the day she left me in a restaurant…
I was frightened and lonely without her arms around me
and I remember how relieved I was
when she came back and found me.
This went on for years and years…all I needed was an occasional sew-up
But although dolls remain the same…little girls all grow up.
She didn’t need me like she used to…she spent more time off by herself
and I went from sleeping next to her…to a spot upon her shelf.
Where I now sit and watch her…remembering our laughter…and our fun
and the moment I resign myself to thinking my usefulness is done…
The instant I start thinking I’m just another doll filled with stuff
she gives me a little hug or says I love you
and I think…that is enough
Enough of a reason…enough proof…enough of a diagram
to remind me how important I was…and how important I still am.
