Poem
Sheri
Literature Creativity
What fills this doll who walks with me?
I have seen her held too tightly,
Carried by the arm, bent without complaint.
If I had a shirt I would lay it down
Or kick a puddle to test a seam.
Certainly, she is well-worn, but I think
That in her kapok is the finest seed,
Which is a wood, vast and lit
Where friends are welcome and few.
The nesting birds know the tinsel in its heights
And among the saplings and the sitting moss
Guests feel a meadow always near.
Her fullness is a deep home.