Dolls' House World

Let's play with the dolls' house, you said
As you took me by the hand,
And led me into a world of dreams –
A picture perfect wonderland.

We played with the dolls till bedtime,
Their little limbs manipulated
By our every whim.

We decorated their wooden house
With gold and silver and burgundy,
And hoped it would never burn down.

And in this tiny world we created
A little haven for ourselves;
A universe in miniature,
Full of fairies, pixies and elves.

And I loved you between the hours
Of six and ten,
And you loved me between ten and twelve,
Until the world grew silent and we grew bored,
And into our dolls' house world we'd delve.

Time passed slower there,
Slower than it ever did for us,
And everything was perfect there:
No mess, no pain, no fuss.

Mr Brown went out to work,
As Mrs Brown stayed at home;
The older children went out to school,
And the younger ones would roam.

Then one day the youngest fell down the stairs,
And Mr Brown was caught
With the maid who came once a week.
Mrs Brown turned to the bottle,
The other children cried,
And that little wooden house,
Wasn't so happy anymore.

Neither were we.

One day I went to play
In our little dolls' house world,
And I found the ashes of the house,
Still burning in your eyes.

I mourned for that miniature universe,
Where utter perfection reigned,
And where we could convince ourselves love existed,
Because we couldn't love each other
Or ourselves.

You left behind those ashes
And me;
You left me drowning
In a plastic sea,
Of melted dolls' limbs
And tiny glass eyes,
That stared at me accusingly,
As though they knew the reason why
You left.

Please come back, my dear.
It isn't bedtime yet.