The Doll
...............
Upstairs she sits,
within a
darkened room.
Upon a shelf,
wide-eyed
in the gloom.
Listening out
for the slightest hint.
Patiently waiting,
she begins to blink.
A child is running
about this house.
Downstairs
Upstairs
Roundabout.
She enters within
the musty-smelling room,
humming a nursery rhyme
Humming a tune.
And as her
brown eyes
fall
upon the
doll -
a doll so beautiful,
yet so droll.
Oh, what fun
she could see,
playing with her dolly,
while her mummy
and daddy,
argued - as usual -
in the living room
downstairs.
Always caught
in the middle,
what could be worse?
She will play
with this dolly,
they will be
good friends.
Friends forever.
Friends 'till the end.
And as the days
and nights,
they went on by,
her mummy and daddy
ignored her cries
for attention.
She did not cry anymore,
playing with her dolly,
as she locked
the bedroom door.
Ring o' ring o' rosies
they would sing,
from that darkened room,
her parents' never went in.
And then one night,
the dolly whispered:
'Look.
Would you like to stay
with me,
upon that shelf
amongst the books?
You could be
with me
forever,
just say the word.
And your mother and father
will never be heard of again.'
And the little girl, said:
'Yes.
I want to stay
with you
forever,
upon that
dusty shelf.'
So, one night
while they slept,
in that big old house.
Down that darkened corridor -
as quiet as a mouse -
the dolly did creep,
upon her plastic knees.
Her eyes, wide
glowing,
as the cool night breeze,
flowed over her garments,
silken and fine.
She thought to herself,
That child will soon
be mine.
Opening
slowly,
the bedroom door,
she crept across
the deep-piled floor.
Making her way
toward the bed.
Grimace on her face,
parents', snoring,
off their heads.
Climbed upon
the blankets,
stood over the face
of the father-
while the child
looked on
from the
corridor -
were they both
came from.
The pillow came down.
A muffled cry.
He did not take long
to slip away and die.
And then the mother,
fast to the world,
suddenly opened her eyes -
but her heart was stilled,
with a look of
shock
and
terror,
upon her face.
Her heart stopped beating,
as that dolly took the place
of the parents.
Hand-in-hand
from the room
they walked,
singing,
Ring o' ring o' rosies,
as they talked.
................
Now upstairs,
they sit,
within a darkened room.
Upon a dusty old shelf,
wide-eyed,
in the gloom.
Listening out
for the slightest hint.
Patiently waiting,
they begin to blink.
A child is running
about this house.
Downstairs
Upstairs
Roundabout...
Copyright
(C) 2006
{The Doll}
Wayne Leon Learmond
All rights Reserved
Thu Nov 26, 2015 7:50 am by Glad E Olah
Subject: The Doll 
