China Doll

China doll. I have a little china doll, a figurine, she stands in pride of place on my bookcase. Sometimes from the corner of my eye, I think that I can see her cry. I wonder why. But when I look to check what I have seen, her painted smile is fixed serene and then she winks at me. Can this be the start of some odd malady? She sometimes gives a quiet sob, that I seem to hear with my ear. Really ***** I don’t believe that I’m insane. But why should I imagine such strange things? Oh dear, She has just stuck out her tongue at me and smiled a wicked little grin. How odd I’ve had her for years, What can she see in me she hasn’t seen before. I nod involuntarily,.She lifts her skirt and starts to flirt with me ,shamelessly. Perhaps she has been unhappy for a while and wants me to make her smile. It might be a figment of my imagination or is this actually happening., Maybe it’s only a sublimation of the pain I feel. She starts to sing. an aria from Madame Butterfly. This is absurd. Her voice is very clear the sad wistful longing makes me cry. I wish that she was real and she was here. She would make my loneliness disappear and we could join in wanton dance. And drink Champagne, eat caviar. But you my dear are just my little china doll I THINK.