The Geisha Doll

        

 The Geisha Doll

On the top of the wardrobe,

there she is! A little geisha doll

wearing a fade smile.

And she smiles every morning

as the sun’s ray grope her face.

She would nearly walk,

were her umbrella not made of paper;

were her sandals not made of nails.

She stands there alone.

She doesn’t have anyone to talk to.

And if she has, she doesn’t speak the language.

Maybe the morning breeze reminds her of Japan.

Or maybe not.

Maybe it causes her pain in the bones.

But she always smiles.

Sometimes at dawn she looks nostalgic.

It is the time when she whispers stories.

Once she was young.

Her hair was better done,

her skin softer,

her clothes more delicate.

Don’t ask about the past.

Don’t ask about the future.

Don’t ask even for a dramatic story.

She is still a doll

And she was beautiful.

                                               Iris Verina