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You stand on the mantelpiece,
Too precious to be touched
Too pretty to be handled.
Your curly locks fall in golden waves
Your blue eyes stare out at nothing.
A clasp of pearls at your throat,
A cluster of petals in your hair.
Beautiful girl of ages past,
How you envy the ratty teddy bear,
With chewed off ears,
And an eyeball long since lost,
Loved and caressed by children everywhere.
You stand there with dust sprinkled over blushing cheeks,
Far superior to others
And undoubtedly far lonelier.
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