“The dollhouse stood in an open wood.
And the old doll hid like an old doll should.
Alone she sat in the shelter there.
Some tiny hands had left her care.
When I had wandered fast and long,
Where ditches and briars and bees belong.
The silence was a heavy and lost dimension.
Where time had left her in an untouched suspension.
As if to say,
“You do not belong”.
There was another who sang her a song.
And you are frivolous, hurried and fast.
The times once here have slowly passed. So,
I could see the doll had waited,
For her loving era that had long since faded.
I dared not touch her.
We sat together. The floor was dusty with a chicken feather.
She was sacred in her house out of time.
And I was hurried by the hot sunshine.
I still remember,
The silence there.
And how she hid and did not want my care.
I travelled back,
Thru bush and berry.
Little feet thru moss,
I imagined she was a dream.
Another place lost at the seam. I wonder if the earth has found her place.
Or if her era flipped its face.
Is back in the arms of her mother.”
Written by Lucia Sullivan ♥ Copyright 2018 all rights reserved
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I AM A CLAIRVOYANT, POET, WRITER, AND SEER. I BELIEVE ALL THINGS ARE MOVING TOWARDS THE LIGHT. I LOVE MUSIC, DANCING, BOATING, NATURE, AND ANIMALS.