My Mothers Dolls


wisps of hair
so fine
across my face
like laced cobwebs I brush them away
here in the attic found
what was once
my mothers dolls
wide eyed stares
hostages of time
tattered and old
spider webs
cover them
like fishnets

n all I hear is a distant warning
of my mothers voice
‘Don’t Touch
you’ll ruin them’
I leave them as she did me

Outside autumns fall
is all around me
I pick up a handful of leaves
to take with me
I don’t know why
I suddenly want to take them all
n start to cry
they’ll be cold and alone
now their tree has no use for them
so many
I give back what I took
their brothers n sisters
as I think of them
realising their mother is here
n she’ll nurture them
as mothers should

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