The porcelain doll sat, droopy and dropped,
little dress worn with spaces and dots,
round cheeks all covers in spots.
Eyes so sad, depressed and blotted,
tears running down a nose so snotted.
But then came a hand, furry and soft,
of a sweet teddy bear offering his sweater,
to wrap around the poor doll's shivering arms.
He picked her up, brought her to his loft,
held her gently and sang a song.
And there she sat as he mended her dress,
stitched her right up and filled in the holes
of a delicate heart once ripped to shreds.
He gave her a hug, then a kiss,
never to leave her side again.
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