The Dolls
Pink taffeta and lace, rosy bow lips, blonde curls dangle over one fixed azure eye. They watch from the shelves in silent contemplation like a cluttered jury in catatonia. Sleepy Susan in her perpetual wink, her small accusing smile tribute to a careless toss, her bright blue gaze forever fractured upon the stairway. And you can never return to that room, the room with its accusing eyes and cluttered jury in accusation of a selfish childhood.
Mother brings her duster and broom, and Gracie never sleeps in her bed. No one is chosen to snuggle beneath the dandilion covers, so they sit upon the yellow shelf above the mirror and wait. Mother comes and goes in her apron and bare feet while they watch in their party dresses and bonnets, never to have tea again. And Sleepy Susan winks at the lightning beyond the rain-spattered window, it's rippling shadows like mock tears streaking her face. Never come back, Gracie. Never return to the room where they wait upon the yellow shelf. Only mother comes now, bringing her duster and broom, smiling, humming.
Gracie dreams of her room with the dolls as the rain cries beyond the window, streaking her face in shadowy tears. Mother watches over the yellow shelf above the mirrors where her dolls lay waiting, a preservation of childhood long buried beneath adulthood.
Somewhere a dolly cries "Momma" as a dreaming child tosses in her sleep. And in her dreams Gracie trods barefoot along a cold wooden floor into the room with the yellow shelf, carrying her duster and broom. But she can never return there to that place, where they wait upon the yellow shelf staring, smiling, winking.
As Gracie gazes upon the cluttered jury, the injured, the forgotten, Gracie wakes to remember a small Sleepy Susan who tumbled along the stairs... never to sleep again.
Pink taffeta and lace, rosy bow lips, blonde curls dangle over one fixed azure eye. They watch from the shelves in silent contemplation like a cluttered jury in catatonia. Sleepy Susan in her perpetual wink, her small accusing smile tribute to a careless toss, her bright blue gaze forever fractured upon the stairway. And you can never return to that room, the room with its accusing eyes and cluttered jury in accusation of a selfish childhood.
Mother brings her duster and broom, and Gracie never sleeps in her bed. No one is chosen to snuggle beneath the dandilion covers, so they sit upon the yellow shelf above the mirror and wait. Mother comes and goes in her apron and bare feet while they watch in their party dresses and bonnets, never to have tea again. And Sleepy Susan winks at the lightning beyond the rain-spattered window, it's rippling shadows like mock tears streaking her face. Never come back, Gracie. Never return to the room where they wait upon the yellow shelf. Only mother comes now, bringing her duster and broom, smiling, humming.
Gracie dreams of her room with the dolls as the rain cries beyond the window, streaking her face in shadowy tears. Mother watches over the yellow shelf above the mirrors where her dolls lay waiting, a preservation of childhood long buried beneath adulthood.
Somewhere a dolly cries "Momma" as a dreaming child tosses in her sleep. And in her dreams Gracie trods barefoot along a cold wooden floor into the room with the yellow shelf, carrying her duster and broom. But she can never return there to that place, where they wait upon the yellow shelf staring, smiling, winking.
As Gracie gazes upon the cluttered jury, the injured, the forgotten, Gracie wakes to remember a small Sleepy Susan who tumbled along the stairs... never to sleep again.
In a dusty corner of the room a light glows from the crack in the toybox lid. Something quickens inside the wooden womb.
Back to the Toy Room OR grab free Desktop wallpaper featuring The Corridors haunted doll and her evil twin!
Back to the Toy Room OR grab free Desktop wallpaper featuring The Corridors haunted doll and her evil twin!
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