Her hair was a mess of flaxen curls, the envy of all the other girls.
She wore a baby-blue gingham gown and pinafore with ruffles 'round.
Shoe-button eyes so black, so bright and embroidered smile sewn on just right.
Candy-striped hose she loved so much and Patent shoes were the final touch.
But changes came with the passing years once filled with laughter and childish tears.
Gone the curl and patent shoe. The dress was torn. The apron too.
She even lost one bright, black eye; to enchanted times had come, 'goodbye,'
She was stored away in a dusty trunk, a forgotten rag, a piece of junk.
In darkness she remained alone; seemed her usefulness was gone.
Then, quite suddenly, one day with pale pink dress and clean white shoe.
Sewn so tight are her new eyes ready for a thousand cries.
But best of all, someone who cares brought her down from the attic stairs.
No more little ugly doll, she's loved; and once more beautiful.