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Doll Story Ld
Cinnamon, my childhood doll,
I barely thought of you at all -
of where you went,
or how, or when,
but I was only little then.
Now I'm crying, lost in time:
layered under years of grime,
you sit quite still
upon the shelf
and I am back inside myself.
The antique market fades away:
I reach for you amidst the fray.
My Cinnamon,
my childhood friend,
our story wasn't meant to end.
Contest sponsored by Charles Messina. June 14, 2023
Copyright ©
Angela Maracle
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