A Living Doll Poem by Patti Masterman

I used to play with dolls
Long ago, in another century
I fed them mud pies
Brushed their hair
Washed their little clothes
Counted their fingers and toes
They entertained themselves
I'd park them on a bench
Or any handy surface
They were user friendly
Not like real babies
Dolls aren't good training for those
I did alright with the real one
Never dropped her or stepped on her
Never went to jail
Can't pry her off me now
Can't unglue the maternal glue that's blood
The dolls paid their dues
And now she looks toward other days
Where I'll not be allowed trespass
But she always turns up again
She remembers where she came from.