Thumbelina

Her name was Thumbelina she was ugly as could be

Not soft and cute like dolls today yet beautiful to me,

I held her tight I told her stuff she was my dearest friend,

When Sandy ripped her arm off I knew she would not mend,

I carried her to mama and placed her in mom's hands

She said bring needle and some thread I'll fix her up again

With tender hands she sewed each stitch with thread that did not match,

All I wanted most of all was Thumbelina back,

As I became a woman and dolls were put away,

All I have is memories of some far yesterday,

And then it was on Christmas a few short years ago,

A box with shiny paper tied with a pretty bow.

I peeped inside It could not be, a treasure from my past

I lifted Thumbelina out Oh what is this I ask

Her limbs intact no mitch matched thread around her arm you see,

My sister searched this whole wide world to find this doll for me.

My grandchild begged to hold her once with hesitation done
She gave her back I looked at her Oh! my where is her thumb.