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 fish
caught in a net
n all I hear is a distant chastise
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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