Baby Doll

Dark Side of the Moon

Upon an ancient wicker rocker sits
A pretty little lady just as old.
How fair her alabaster cheeks, and smooth,
Yet never do they dimple with a grin.
Her azure eyes look on, but nothing see;
No word from her red lips was ever heard.
Those chubby little arms will never reach
As if to beckon me to hold her close.
My dear, if you and I had never met,
I’d be as lifeless as that baby doll.

antique dollAbout the poem:

I was looking at my antique doll sitting in her chair in the corner of the room when this poem came to me. At first I was merely writing about the doll, but as the lines progressed, I realized that I needed to make a point. She has many characteristics of a real live baby, but she is missing the main ingredient: life.

I, too, was afraid to live…

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