Love of a child

This one is new, I picked it up from the curb

And waved it to my mother who was waiting by the car door

frowning, dear child what is this dirty thing?

A torn sock, gutted and loosely strung with threads all around

reminded me of a picture book I once read about a raggedy doll

who came to life upon meeting the love of a child.

Perhaps, I thought

if only I could love it, it would come alive!

Love it tried I, my mother disapproved and hurried,

Grumbling under her breath about the junk I brought home.

Why do you like this garbage? Why don't you like new dolls,

like all the other normal children?

I could never stop beaming, the imaginary doll

was already coming to life, buttons and yarn and the whole nine yards.

Loving her! He is such a delight, he's actually beautiful

But mother has plans, and her heart has forgotten what it means

to bring dolls to life. dirty, she mutters

Please don't throw him away

I pleaded

Don't

(because I love him)

I'll throw it away, I promise

But I kept him alive in my drawers

Dancing, and singing, and telling me stories until bedtime

He makes me laugh (I thought to my mother)

but she will never remember the feeling.