Doll Face

You're four

you ferociously rip open layers of wrapping paper
until you uncover her porcelain face
you marvel over the smooth texture of her cold skin
and then hug your mommy with renewed enthusiasm


You're six

all your friends wish they had her
she's constantly being passed from arms to arms
until she ends up in her rightful place
she sits there, over- watching over your youthful fun

Then you're eight

her smile is slightly chipped from age
one arm wears a crack and remnants from being glued back together
the end of her tiny red dress is slightly frayed
but you still always love your gorgeous companion

When you're ten

she waits patiently in her certain place
while you're out climbing trees and jumping rope
she's to fragile to bring outside so she
slowly fades to the background while you go full speed ahead

At age thirteen


She collects dust in an abandoned corner
she doesn't even catch your glance on the way out to see a movie
with your real friends. there's no time for stupid
childhood toys and make believe as a teenager.

When you turn fifteen


She gets moved to the attic in an effort to remove
clutter form your room.
Her mossy hair is tangled, her cloths tattered and torn
there she sits neglected, her eyes reminiscing on the past

Now your twenty three.

Fresh out of college you come home collecting belongings
to move far away to a the start of your new life.
You come across her broken smile in the attic
Remembering.


Remembering how her glass eyes watched you through your tears
Remembering her chilled hugs after a bad day at school
Remembering that she saw you grow up, she saw you in your best and at your worst
and rememberting that smile that is still plastered on her face

so you box her up and bring her
on to your new life that lays ahead.


Your 33, but she's five.

"Mommy, what a pretty doll."