Poetry About Dolls

She waits beneath the bed with tangled hair. One painted eye is scratched but still attentive. A child once told her every household secret. Years folded quietly around her cotton dress. Now grown hands lift her into afternoon light. Old toys remember the voices we outgrew.

Look again from the quieter edge. One painted eye is scratched but still attentive. A smaller detail changes the whole scene. Years folded quietly around her cotton dress. Attention loosens the first easy answer. Old toys remember the voices we outgrew.

She waits beneath the bed with tangled hair. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. A child once told her every household secret. It returns us to childhood, play, imitation, memory, identity, and the small figures entrusted with large stories. Now grown hands lift her into afternoon light. The day continues with a more attentive heart.