Somebody creates me,
And gives me head and body,
Dresses and decorates me,
And I am passed on to somebody.
And then I land,
On a small baby's lap,
Who cuddles me, shakes my hand,
Sometimes kicks me and gives me a tap.
Thus continues my life,
Being tossed and cuddled.
In the hands of kids I thrive,
Once they get bored in the showcase I am settled.
I rest for sometime there,
And be played with,
When kids remember,
Again back to showcase I sit.
As time passes by,
I get old and torn,
No one remembers thy,
And finally to the recycle bin I am thrown.
As I hear my doll's tale,
Me too old and abandoned,
I think back and reflect,
I have been also cuddled, patted, used and discarded.
Hence my doll, you and me,
Are in no ways different,
Just the make differs you see
Rest all is the same, beginning to end.
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