The Porcelain Doll

There is a shop, along the stone pavements

In the dim streets of london.

Colorfully decorated, with a large glass window.

In that glass window, lies a smiling porcelain doll.

Everyday I walk past; stop for a few moments

To gaze at this beautifully hand-stiched doll

Smooth, dark hair falling from her head.

Her eyes deep like a Hazel sea..

The seasons pass, and autumn leaves fall

She remains the same, beautiful and glowing.

And everyday, I come by, to appreaciate that smile.

I wish I had something to offer that shop owner.

Even when it rains; even when it snows,

I come by the shop, and joyfully peek,

Just to feel that little bit of light seep into me.

Just to feel a little bit more alive.

I feel as if I have known her for a long time

Sometimes she doesnt leave my mind

I need to stop lying to myself;

I know she is something I can never have.