Crinolines
Precious objects
laid up, for sunnier days.
Dolls, more valued
more beautiful
than they have any right to be.
She tells me a story
of an army brat
who had the effrontery
to steal all her dolls.
The ones from France
and Germany and the one from Japan
with seven wigs.
Firenze and Ninette,
they all have names
to go with their lovely gowns
and porcelain faces.
Too spooky for some children
loved and adored by others.
Boxes wrapped in plastic
to keep out moisture,
under the house,
dolls waiting to be displayed
waiting to be resurrected.
May 18, 2008
© 2008 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
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Written on 2008-05-28 at 01:32
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