The Russian Doll

A bird flew into a small room.

On the table was a Russian doll.

A happy face was painted on, with intricate decision

Golden flowers and white petals surrounded the smooth wooden figure

As it opened, more happy faces appeared in an instant

A mature hand once held this doll.

To this person, hope and love had shined,

Out of this sparkling but weary doll.

For this doll was passed from generation to generation.

The wrinkled hand quivered and shook and then...

The hand fell...dead

The Russian doll that still had the happy face,

Now looked like the happy face was forced on,

As the it sparkled with guilt and shame.

Of what happened.

Pink, emerald and gold shone continuously

The bird had flown away away.

As had the spirit of the old woman.