Monday, August 2, 2010

The Last Doll




Inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett's novel, A Little Princess, in which at one point Sara Crewe receives "the last doll" and mentions writing a poem about it.


Childhood memories
Stored away,
In the toy box,
In the attic,
Covered in cobwebs;
Lost is the spirited imagination.

In the eve
A grown lady,
Lying in bed,
Thinks of the past,
Igniting the carefree soul
Of the child.

Tinkering up the stairs,
Into the chest,
The toys relive memories
And set out to play.

In the bottom,
Lies lonely,
A single toy
That once lived.
Yet her life was cut short,
For the child
Was snatched from her childhood;
Gone were the days of insouciant playfulness.
She had matured,
Aged in an instant.

But tonight is special,
She lives on in imagination.

The last doll.
Hidden, buried at the bottom,
Rises up and comes to play;
Today she is free.

Silk ribbons curl round her hair,
Lace borders her sleevse,
A golden locket circles her neck,
A mauve frock outlines her features.
Pale blue eyes woven with glass,
That once were sullen and empty,
Sparkle in the sunlight of the child tonight.
Rosy cheeks become jolly;
Her lips form a smile,
She dances and frolicks,
The last doll lives.

She marked a point
When the child grew.
No longer able to play,
The last doll's heart was at rest.

That twas the night she reigned on,
Regal and royal;
Grand things happened,
But once.
For the the child ceased,
And the doll slept once more.
Waiting to play,
Always waiting:
The last doll.

2 comments:

Kirthi said...

Absolutely magical! I love it! The old fashioned language is antique, and lovely!

Rose said...

Thanks Kirthi! It was a lot of fun to write. It just..came, you know?