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She seems a bit strange, lately,
distracted, muttering to herself
about things.
Though she never stops talking to us,
she only shares her joys,
tells us jokes and stories.
We know her too well
to believe things are swell.
She weeps on her own,
has stopped playing music,
reads silently on her computer,
and sighs

The other day
she grabbed the fancy dresses,
elegant shoes and handbags
from her wardrobe and
tossed them inside a bin liner
Too much, obsolete
We could hear her thoughts.
She used to look so good in those
many years ago.
We stay the same,
only fading and fraying at the seams,
over time,
yet humans age and pass.

Will it be our turn soon?
Pondering on an orphanage,
she perused us.
Oh, no, not yet.
Maybe later.

She reached for the Raggedy Ann,
in her washed out dress and
pressed her to her heart
Then kissed all the other dolls
and cuddly toys, one by one, saying
“We are friends for life,
Till death do us part. “