Forgotten Dolls

My oldest niece turned sixteen this past month. Couldn't believe it. I remember her at her first birthday taking her first steps from Grandpa to me and back. As part of her birthday gifts I gave her a copy of a poem that I wrote for her mother at HER sixteenth birthday while I was away in the Navy. Enjoy.

P.S. - Picture at the bottom is of my sister's original Raggedy Ann doll. -j.p.

They sit in the corner of the room,

collecting dust.

No longer do small hands caress and hold them.

Clothes and tea parties,

houses and carriages,

forgotten memories worn deep in parting seems.

The cradle is covered,

no longer in use,

sitting in the attic;

just waiting for love and someone to hold.

In passing days and endless ways,

tiny feet and tear stained pillow;

generation lost and gained.

Child grown.

Too old for dolls.

Companionship and love,

be new toys for growing mind and heart.

Pretty dresses turn faded jeans.

Shoes with heels replace booties of pink.

Talcum set aside for rouge and eye shadow.

Growing pains and loving gains,

with goals of heart and challenges of spirit,

come day by day,

and each birthday past.

Through the layers of dust,

that has settled since then,

a single tear falls down worn cheek.

Cutting a path through the grime

of memories long gone.

Moments lost for eternity’s sake.

A single tear.

On a timeless,

smiling face.

Shed for a girl who has grown up and on.


J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 1986

 

© Emittravel 2011