A poem entitled The Memory of Innocence


The Memory of Innocence

When I was small

I received a china doll

I cried when I saw her glass eyes

I rejoiced when I held her

She was mine

I carried her around

As if she was not a fragile thing

She held a music box within her

And I would listen to her sing

As years went past her ceramic feet

Would smash together

And chip and break piece by piece

I repaired them like a medic with a child’s skills

With splints and tape

And the strength of youth’s will

Then came the day

When someone shattered her face

I shrieked and cried but to no avail

Her beauty was gone

And my heart began to pale

My memory of her magenta dress would fade

And rarely did I think of her until this day

I loved her even though she was no longer

The friend I once knew

I loved her even though she broke my soul

I loved her even though with her death

The last vestige of my innocence left

Memory is a strange thing

Because so often what let’s us grow up is pain

It is loss

It is mortality

But deep inside a child

Lives eternally

It holds the doll dearly with its fractured face

Because in a child’s heart

Love can never be replaced

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