Each woman, from her mother, gets
A brand new doll at birth.
For years it may seem just a toy
But has a hidden worth.
The sum that all from Eve have learned,
Right up to modern day,
Is stored within the stuffing of
The object of their play.
Too often, lately, womankind
Walks aimless to her cost,
A destination she desires,
The trail to it quite lost.
What once was handed down the line
From Grans and moms and aunts,
Is not much practiced now-a-days
For fear of hoots and taunts.
The scientific modern world
Has not much use for lore,
Though pockets of the primitive
Protect a faithful core.
A wealth of dolls are on display,
No longer used at all,
Confusion rampant in the world,
No ear to hear the call.
The faith and confidence it takes,
Not taught to those at breast,
Can be attained by those aware
Enough to face the test.
The wisdom of the dolls is such
That any can regain
Direction to her destiny,
Be it peace or pain.
A doll's advice, when listened to,
Most often won't go stray,
When leading one to her desire,
Though trust must be the pay.
Richard Higley © July 13, 2014
