Ode to a Doll

In chambers draped with childhood's gleam,

Upon a shelf, a figure lies,

A doll, unmoving, eyes that dream,

A friend of old, under timeless skies.

A face once flushed with painted blush,

Now faded, yet a beauty still,

In cotton dress and silken hush,

A testament to youthful thrill.

She sits, adorned in finest lace,

Her plastic limbs bear tender grace,

Each stitch and seam, a mark of love,

Her quiet smile, a cooing dove.

A hand once small did clasp you tight,

Through dream-filled days and starlit night,

In plays and tales, you've danced and sung,

Yet now you rest, the games are done.

Yet still, you speak, a gentle muse,

Of innocence we're prone to lose,

In eyes once bright, a glimmer shows,

A memory the heart still knows.

A child's pure joy, a parent's glance,

A moment held in time's embrace,

A world where dreams had still a chance,

Within your frame, I find that place.

O doll, dear doll, of yesteryears,

Though shelved, your spirit's never gone,

You're more than seams and cloth-bound tears,

A symbol of a time long drawn.

So here's to you, unspoken sage,

A humble piece of art, divine,

Your quiet grace defies the age,

In you, the extraordinary we find.