The China Doll
She was a genuine splendor
for his eyes to behold
as soft as a petal when
a spring rose unfolds.
Destiny guided him
across her life's path
to her sparkling blue eyes
and little girl laugh.
Her inner soul time
again had been tried
leaving her crushed and
alone to wither and die.
Like a fine porcelain doll,
he cradled her with care
so as not to blemish
a treasure so rare.
For to mar her fragile heart
he could not withstand
knowing it would sever
the rose that bloomed in his hand.
Poem by Carol Barton
(Written for E.J. based on how he saw me)
Copyright 2002 ~ Carol Barton
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