Delivered in the Winter,

Of 1869,

Without mother or father.

I entered the world alone,

And was placed up for a home.

Men and women entered,

To stand and contemplate,

Whether it would be absurd,

To obtain something like me;

Many parents and kids could not agree.

Then after months, one day,

A family saw me,

And resolved they’d indeed pay…

My way into their fine life;

A daughter, father, and loving wife.

Days slipped by without thought,

Or a care in the world,

And soon those days were forgot,

In all of the excitement.

In comfort each day was spent.

I had a family,

And spent each day playing,

With my sweet sister, Emily.

We were best friends forever.

Our bond no one could sever.

We played dress-up and sang,

Of the delight of youth.

Serving black tea and meringue,

In gardens in the Springtime.

Life felt loving and sublime.

Change is a part of life,

And though I knew this well.

It still cut me like a knife,

When Emily ignored me;

And spent no more time with me.

One day in our bedroom,

She saw me, and she sighed.

Then kicked me into a tomb;

And there within that closet,

I sat and cried ’til sunset.

Soon it became routine,

To be hit and disdained;

And no one cared she was mean.

For I was not born to be,

A blood member of the family.

Then a brother was born,

And he would hurt me too.

No one cared my heart was torn;

And no one would rescue me,

Or heal my battered body.

Emily, in Winter,

Many long years later,

Looked at me, and I at her.

With my eyes I cried to her:

“Don’t you miss how things once were?”

“Emily, I love you.”

“The only love I’ve known,

Came from my friendship with you.”

“My only family’s here.”

“So please do not leave me here!”

She reached her hand to mine,

And walked to the window.

Then her eyes returned to mine,

And with disgust she pushed me;

Without time to scream, or plea.

I could no longer feel.

My face was lined with scars.

My legs broke from the ordeal,

And yet I begged forgiveness,

For being born so worthless.

All I wanted was love.

To give and receive it.

For a moment we felt love,

Before expectations changed.

After all: Society’s deranged!

Love grows and fades away.

Nothing lasts forever.

Beauty and youth fade away,

And a souls’ worth goes with it.

The world yells to reject it!

Out with old. In with new.

So the story still goes.

In time, spurned; replaced with the new.

When the novelty runs out,

All things are, like trash, thrown out.

I died in the Winter,

Of 1883.

When my kind, loving sister,

Was no longer young and small,

And too old for childish things, like me, her porcelain doll.

K. Aldaya, 9/17/15

Picture: Painter unknown;  http://www.edmondhistory.org/events/victorian-tea/