A Boy and His Doll

“A pretty toy, but I’m a boy,
And pretty stuff’s for girls,”
Or so he thinks until she winks
And shakes her tiny curls.

The pretty thing extends a wing,
Then leaps into the sky,
Takes birds for pets, and races jets
Wherever they may fly.

She drops her snares upon the stairs
And captures half the force
Of army guys whose target lies
Upon her chosen course.

His rubber duck is out of luck.
It’s circling round the drain.
The angel hurls it from the whirls
And now it’s safe again.

“My pretty miss, give me a kiss”,
Demands the evil giant.
She knocks him flat for asking that.
She’s strong and self-reliant.

The passing years bring laughs and tears,
But never quite the joy
That once was seen to pass between
This dolly and her boy.

Copyright ©2011, Paul H. Harder II 

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.