An old broken doll
remembers her first Christmas
many children ago.
Now, only the rain
plays with her hair.
(Christmas Poem for Tilly)
here's to the old broken doll and all the old broken dolls beloved by little girls everywhere and now discarded......... they could tell such things if they could speak..... Ruthie
I love coming across one of your poems that are just lying there and noone has commented upon. And such a wonderful jewel of a poem. A little gem.This brings a lump to my throat. I'm always knocked out by your imagery and the idea of a doll counting time in the number of children it has known...is just magical. Oh and the sadness! Once again as so often you do...you stop me in my tracks! Boo who...boo hoo hoo me that's who. This is so touching and tender and so sweetly sad. Oh my heart...you just reach on in there and play on my heartstrings. God this made me cry! Those last two lines...sobbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb! ! ! ! ! love a sad Dee Dee who is happy to know this poem despite what it is doing to her right now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I never know when something that you have written is going to make me long for days gone by, or lost loves, make me laugh aloud..or cry - - and that is the magic of what you do!