A Garland of Curls

Last summer, I was painting in my room with my window open. I heard some voices beneath my window and I saw a beautiful child holding an old doll. I wanted to write a poem about her, but nothing came to my mind. Just the other night as I was drifting to sleep, I suddenly had the poem. Its not deep or profound, only purely simplistic. I call it, “A Garland of Curls”

Today I looked out

and saw a garland of curls,

Blonde so they were,

Of an innocent girl.

She skipped and she played

Her frame though so small,

With nothing in hand

But an old ragged doll.

She made a home of sticks

in the evening she’d call,

To visit her friend,

The old ragged doll.

Mud pies and cakes were all that she knew,

Her old rag doll

To the table she drew.

With words so soft,

She bowed in prayer,

Glancing to see

Her old rag doll did care.

For hours she’d sit,

with her lifeless dear friend,

Talking or silent,

and her clothes she would mend.

Though time did wear

On the face of the doll,

The young girl did not care,

or see any face with a marr,

The two were best friends,

One alive the other not,

One born into the world,

The other store bought.

Come season, Come time

Amazed you will be

At the sight of a

Rag doll and the innocent she.


1 Comment

Filed under My Poetry, Uncategorized

One response to “A Garland of Curls

  1. That was beautiful, Mary!
    I just ran across your blog (from your link on gmail) and this poem brought a huge smile to my face. 🙂 So full of pictures and beautiful glimpses into the simply, joyful life of a little girl.

    Hope you’re doing well, my friend!

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