The Doll

The Poem

In the attic there is a door that no one else can see,
not my mother, nor my father, but visible to me.
Behind the books and stacks of clothes, beyond the dresser drawer,
small and square and barely there but certainly a door.
I told myself it wasn't real, for no one else had known,
but once the door was opened so and past it was a moan.

I turned to run and tell someone but could only pose and smile,
the door had closed and no one knows for it has been a while.
I walked that day, past the door, and saw what was to see,
a girl in black, with dress and hat, resting on her knees.
She lacked a mouth and hair and eyes but drew me with a glove,
a doll, of sorts, a playful thing that needed lots of love.

She sat me down and placed a crown atop my little head,
and wrote that I should never leave and made a little bed.
Amazed I was, at this toy, as real as any friend,
she walked and moved and and even danced and loved to play pretend.
Better than my mother, true, for parents hated play,
so with this girl, this little doll, I promptly chose to stay.   

I stayed a while, for days in fact, the girl insisted so,
hungry as I was and tired, she said I should not go.
"What you need," she wrote in ink, "is in this room with me,"
She set a place and poured a cup of hot and potent tea.
I took a sip and winced a bit, the flavor rather strange,
I tried to speak but fell asleep and dreamed I'd had a change.

When I awoke the weirdest thing I thought I'd ever known,
was the girl beside my bed, her meaning clearly shown.
Atop her head she wore my crown, my curled golden strands,
"I need them, dear," she wrote to me, "I need them to feel grand."
I reached above to feel my hair and know that it was gone,
"What good is hair," I said aloud and let her keep it on.

We played until I thought a thought that took some time to see,
the girl, this doll, this little thing looked strangely just like me.
I mulled the thought but brushed it off when she sat me down,
Another drink she gave to me and quickly I was drowned.
When I awoke I quickly spoke for I simply could not see,
my eyes were lost, just as my locks, with her I knew they'd be.

"Excuse me ma'am," I said to her, "I think I need to leave,"
I thought it time to tell my mom I simply could not see.
I knew she would be mad at me, my hair and vision gone,
but once I told her of the doll she'd fix what had gone wrong.
But as I spoke I felt a poke and then a tug and tear,
and could not scream nor move my mouth, it simply was not there.

"Now you're the doll," she said to me and slowly walked away.
"You can sit and wait and hope to one day laugh and play.
It's been so long since I've been out, past the wooden door,
you tricked me so, so long ago, but now it is no more.
You thought you free, the world fooled, but you were oh so wrong,
and now you'll live the life I had until you came along."