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
