PAT  

Open ! you doors of the toy store !
I’m coming inside, to search some more!

I’m searching every shelf; every loft and vat.
Until I find my doll - my doll named Pat.

I believe Pat’s here - so I’m coming to see !
If I can find Pat, and take it with me.

Ripping and tearing, I search through the place
Hope upon hope, I’ll see the face.

The face that tells me - when I do see -
"I’m Pat ---- you’ve been looking for me"

Anguish beseeches me, as I hold each one.
Searching for Pat has lost its fun.

Heads and legs - even a heal !
I’m so glad , these dolls can’t feel !

Season upon season, I’ve made this search.
Regular like the owl, on his perch.

The looks of Pat - I do not know.
I’m depending on Pat, to come forth and show.

Show me what doll this search is about!
Show me the doll that will make me shout !

The hunt began when I was a child.
The many seasons have made me mild.

Oh !    to hold Pat -   and feel the pride.
Is Pat real ! ?      --      Or is Pat inside ! ?

Barnum Taylor ©  1996