My Ann

Stitched by the hands Of my Grandmother, was she, Spoken through love She became real ... so it seemed. With red, long hair and large, black eyes, A flowered dress And black booties that tied. Yes, Ann with white apron and a flowery dress, Adorned my arms Adorned my chest. Or sat on chairs, or in my bed A tea party perhaps, My Ann, yes, she was ... Simply the best! Til one day in Spring While the sun-shone so bright The house caught on fire There was no more delight ... My Raggedy Ann with red lips that once smiled, No longer lived In my house or my shadow.