A row of dolls lined up on a dusty shelf by a regretful hand
In the back of the attic where no cobwebs have touched
Abandoned by my younger self
With hopes for a bright and busy future
No more time to foray into the world of imagination
Those that once held life in my eyes
Now blank, stiff faces
Unblinking lashes of my childhood

And I would like to say
That I stroked each beloved cheek
Brushed the faintly musty hair
Believed just for a moment

But in truth I remembered that I had homework
So I flicked off the light switch with a whispered prayer
Leaving the dolls to their fate in the dank attic
A collection of forgotten with ripped dresses and pleading eyes

Evermore