The Doll

The Doll

You are the cherry in my Cherry Coke,

The orange shade in your sweatshirt,

And most importantly, the doll to the lonely child.

However, you are not the branches on the tree of life,

The lone jacket to the poor man,

Or the last crumb for the scavenging mouse.

And you certainly not the lion.

There is just no way you are the lion.

You may be the shadows in the night,

The rope burn from the yanked binoculars,

And the whines from the restless child,

But you are not the broken strap on my favorite purse.

Just so you know,

I am the missing piece of the puzzle,

The wind that snaps the branches in the midst of the storm,

And the winding tornado which destroys all.

I am now and will always be that tornado,

But don’t worry,

You are still the cherry in my Cherry Coke,

And thankfully the doll.