She’s tiny, ever so petite,
And fragile
With a tumble of golden curls
Crowning her little head.

Lost in a sewing box
These hundred years
She’s unsure of her magic
Now.

Can she bundle joy,
Fill a home with laughter,
Bring thoughts of gaiety
To a woebegone world?

Shopworn, she,
Yet hopeful her magic has outlasted
All the dusty days.

How to test it?

Wish!

Yes, you, reading this now.
Ask a special favor,
In a polite tone
And see if it comes true.

The sweetest bonbon,
The brightest ribbon,
Better still, the grandest step
In the lightest dance.

Toes that barely
Brush the floor
Saying things
Words cannot say,
Opening worlds,
Raising antique memories,
Blossoming in a sunshiny day.

Precious doll,
Victorianna dear,
If we believe,
Your magic will live again.

And, yes, believe, we do,
We do in candies, ribbons,
And in dance.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia
June 1, 2018