The Snow it Falls Like Paper Dolls by Heidi Robertson :) (If you enjoy my poem, then PLEASE choose to FOLLOW MY BLOG.)

 I blink in awe to thankful thoughts

Most grateful givings

Veteran plots

prayers sometimes caught in waking

Silent moments

Which neither cold

Nor falling snow can ever touch

Or Richard Burton blessings

of funny sunny farm days

can haystack higher

in hearing and remembering


Last lost and dieing breath 

Lights lovely on “Fern Hill”

Orations of a constant falling, falling

cool and wet cold poetry

Until creations on a snowy hillside

form Afghanistan

I’d rather like to feel this drift

in different terms

of warm

and warmer sand and gull calls

Now fall with dunes and happy tunes

once tallied up are interrupted

under hands of age and prudence

A closet full of doll clothes

once  celebrated


Curling yellow parchment paper

under cold and heat

The paper dolls

the clothes of joy

of screaming show and tell

and giggling small exuberance

don’t fit well anymore

won’t stay on


all bent

tabs torn or missing

In the stillness

of empty guest rooms

Of daybeds piled up

of stretchers

Only dust are they

Who once ran screaming down the halls

Disintegrate to touch

lost girls and boys

lost innocense and trust

Our children all grown up and


I’m listening for days gone by  

among the must and mustn’t do  

lawn awnings and long yawnings

When you were near on summer furlough.

I’m gazing at the hashtag hangers

Neighbors to

Life’s lovelost labels, pricetags

the bright blue

sailor suit

the wedding boutonniere

the mermaid tail

the monarch wings

All these are not for SALE

Where sun meets shade

Spells out what’s in a name

Integrity lags

Sags low and lower

in heavy air- 

the thread worn arm chair no one sits on,

in strained and swayback plastic hangars,

in lines and  letters you may never


No one has seen or read the heart for


possessed or pocketed the keys

for these confidences

Insecurities hanging

wondering why

this childhood most simply could not last

The test  

this last and final.

I look to you for answers

if only I could catch your eye.

You are the one and only

paper doll I loved the most

the others tossed to second place


and crueler hosts and enemies

Now grieving loss of friend.

I have become the same here in the end

to you most likely last place


in ranking lower in this foolishness

Usurped admissions of most uncomfortable


A shame.

So much is missing now

in losing face.

Gone the laughter

the twinkling eyes

the rosy cheek

the Paper Moon dancing


that lovely form and countenance

that I once held

in rubbing off features

in overuse,  

in too much wrong rough play and writing.


Now no excuses

only void in this destruction

of 911 paper art creations

Paper dolls…..

and notions of life and death

No excuse and no exceptions

to the rules 

of ware, and wear, and where?


as child medics pretend at doctor

Removing consonants

and vowels tward war, and war, and were

the homphones of Vana White

once shapely nurse

Turn playground pillbox


the cover up white sheet

the teary closed up doll eyes

cause one to blink 

In sitting up and waking,

“Where are you now?”

Lashes batting 

Combating, counter attacking

former sightings

G.I. Joes

Pink painted toes

What’s left to give and take but empathy


I played with you for hours

It made such sense

Now things of past and passing

Memories I’m fondly missing

Versed upon my mind and heart of hearts

Abandoned to the dressing and redressing

New possiblilities

About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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