Pamela Ross had a great idea--write about the loss of my mother's doll. So... I did. It's a serious poem, but it reads kind of funny. I mean, it IS about a dolly. Hee, hee! But... I loved Beth, and more importantly, my mother loved Beth.
So, here's to Baby Doll Beth... RIP.
Little baby doll of mine
Was once my mother’s special find
A doll of fragile composition
Held two girls’ hearts’ best position
Mother called her Baby Beth
A name I kept until Beth’s death
Oh the tears I shed that day
When flooded waters swept Beth away
That poor dear doll could not resist
The water’s tug and awful twist
How cruelly did the water fill
Her every nook and cranny ’til
Her rosy cheeks and soft red lips
Ran down her face in soggy drips
That’s how I found her, sewer-ed through
A doll whose heart was plush and true
For sixty years she held her own
Now Baby Beth is all alone
Goodbye, my mother’s baby doll
When I was young, you were my all
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