some day I will find the dollhouse
I have forgotten, in old catalgues;
of several stories, surely
with an elaborately carved staircase.
a stained glass window at the top.
an attic whose little door pulled
down from the ceiling, easily
leads to realms of Christmas decorations
from another time, and still pristine
go inside. there's the dollhouse dust
smelling mustily, fustily just
like real dust, you exclaim!
and not a penny extra smiles
the toy store clerk who
offers you immediately,
(for your discernment):
a strawberry cone
swirled perfectly
soft serve chocolate and vanilla
through mists of something, far away-
I almost see the paved drive
leading up to it...
the flagstoned terrace
where doll infants played.
the trees of gold that will not,
cannot shed their leaves.
the light left on perpetually
for me, for me
who eventually - someone
has faith in this:
will waken suddenly,
remembering where I am.
mary angela douglas 26 december 2015
I have forgotten, in old catalgues;
of several stories, surely
with an elaborately carved staircase.
a stained glass window at the top.
an attic whose little door pulled
down from the ceiling, easily
leads to realms of Christmas decorations
from another time, and still pristine
go inside. there's the dollhouse dust
smelling mustily, fustily just
like real dust, you exclaim!
and not a penny extra smiles
the toy store clerk who
offers you immediately,
(for your discernment):
a strawberry cone
swirled perfectly
soft serve chocolate and vanilla
through mists of something, far away-
I almost see the paved drive
leading up to it...
the flagstoned terrace
where doll infants played.
the trees of gold that will not,
cannot shed their leaves.
the light left on perpetually
for me, for me
who eventually - someone
has faith in this:
will waken suddenly,
remembering where I am.
mary angela douglas 26 december 2015
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