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Sunday, May 1, 2011


Locked inside the the imagination of a young girls mind, a doll comes to life with a name, and as that girl grows the doll becomes hollow once again. My grandmother gave me her porcelain doll which her father gave to her when she was a small child. Over the last hundred years this doll has touched the lives of four generations of women. My grandmother's doll, Elizabeth, is still just a little girl from Germany.

I never had a chance to play with dolls like other kids. I started working when I was six years old. Billie Holiday

Centuries of a Girl's Doll

Blessed are her
porcelain bones
and veins made of string
and her black ringlet hair
held together with
rusty hairpins, her
cherry-parted lips,
a silent enigmatic smile,
sitting on the top
of an immaculately made bed;
her linen eyelet apron with
stained brown spots
collecting minutes of
loneliness, waiting
in perfect perfection
while locked behind
forgotten time.
She is forever just
a girl.

1 comment:

Thank you for taking a moment to leave me your word of wisdom.