Thumbelina

Once held with love, by hands so small- You’d hardly know that they were mine; Her hair, a matted yellow mess That sticks strait up, from hands and time, The dress, Aunt Rose knit with gnarled hands, Still ties up proper in the back, It hides her scars; so much undone While keeping dignity in tact, One of her fingers’ is too short When I was small, I bit it off; Her neck’s been stretched from need and love Which now I hide with velvet cloth, Her eyes, the same sky blue as hers- A mother ripped from life and earth- Who passed away, leaving her child One blue-eyed doll and no self worth… Many a year flew by in time- An adult with kids of my own- When our house burned, consuming all, From photos to refuge of home, There came from ashes, hope reborn- A beauty with eyes of sky blue, Covered in suet, fire-scarred but safe, The only thing that made it through! A miracle or mothers hand, That saved her from the fire's embrace? To place her safe with honor, down Atop the snow to cool her face, This doll may look a ragged mess To those whose tears she hasn't dried, But when I look in those blue eyes I see a child’s love, survived… My Thumbelina, dread locked doll No other friend could e’er replace Her love; I love her battle scars, Where memory lives upon her face… 2nd place winner in Karen Neary's TRASH or TREASURE contest , 5/2008