They are the only ones who recognize me.

But I am not the only one who recognizes them.

Three white dolls with gratitude and joy I only dream about.

Three who perceive realness.

Three patched up puppets lying in my thoughts in the dead of night.

From my heart, it beats rapidly, but that’s only because of them.

Their elegance is no secret.

They send energy flying throughout the room.

They can never grow up and they can never grow old and they will forever stay with smiles on their faces.

This is how they live.

Never have they once, forgotten to say hello with a grin on their face, exploding rays of sunshine everywhere.

Here, here, here they always will be.

They never leave.

When I am too sad and too sick to keep keeping, when I am hushed and reluctant to shout to the world, I turn my attention to the dolls.

When there is no one else in the room.

Three who carved their names in my heart.

Three who endure no pain and don’t say a peep.

Three whose purpose is to stay and be.