The doll

The Doll

Purple, her dress is so carefully stitched.

Look at her porcelain face, hands and feet.

While her bonnet, it sat lazily hitched,

oh my, such a beauty this doll was she.

Her real hair was braided and tied with love,

Her blue eyes made brown, each painted by hand.

One of a kind, standing with pride above

I watched as she dressed and fixed the last band.

Rose from her chair, grandmother gazed with pride

placing her lovingly into my lap.

The doll she had made sat tall by my side

my grandmother’s gift, tears of joy I clapped.

Timeless she is, her new seat from above

my grand daughter’s bed, a new girl to love.

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