Soft and giving, yet strong.
Not much can hurt you
But you are full of such love and warmth,
My rag doll.
You, with your curly yarn hair,
Soft, slightly ripley dress, smooth apron and big, floppy bonnet,
The painted face that I wish I could see.
Though I don't know your face, you are mine,
An old friend who has stayed with me for years.
I had an upsetting encounter
With that other, old doll, who is like you but so different.
She's smaller, made of plastic and wears pants and a sweater.
Still, she once had curly hair, sort of like yours, and the same strawberry smell.
Feeling her hair fall out in clumps when I touched her made me so sad.
I thought I had been too rough, though I tried to take good care of her
For we were friends and I still love her.
None of it was my fault though.
It was just how she was made.
You're still here, strong and closer to me than that other doll and I had been.
Finding you in the store that summer was like having my best childhood friend come back.
"It's been a long time. How are you?"
The differences didn't matter.
It was time to pick up where we left off.
You're still the best friend I imagined taking me to Strawberryland,
⠠⠩⠪⠬ me around and introducing me to all your friends.
You have all that sweetness and still want me to come play.
Now I run to you for comfort and to make sure you're all right.
You are and I'm grateful that you're here.
You carry the memories and love of both dolls now.
Such a tangle of memories washes over me as I hold you and I feel it all again,
The love, the joy and wonder,
The ache of missing those loved ones who are gone,
The feeling that I've grown old.
I press you to my thumping heart.
You're strong enough to be here with me for many years.
Your hair won't fall out and you'll stay beside me.
You have enough love to help keep me steady through the storms and make the sunshine a little brighter.
As I just did, I can always return to your arms.
We can still play and I can still come with you to Strawberryland.
I will never grow too old for that.