Ode to a Matryoshka Doll

Ode to a Matryoshka doll


Nestled among clutter on my bookshelf

Seemingly insignificant to the ignorant observer

Lacking any intrinsic value at all

Yet holding the utmost value to me


Delicately painted in vibrant colors

Regal red with specks of gold

Wooden faces ever so dainty

Painted in the small Russian Village of Lensk


And now you’re here upon my shelf

Stacked one after the other

Like chapters in a book

More valuable with every layer


Because only you and I know

What lies under your surface

There’s more than smaller versions of yourself

But smaller versions of me

Preserved in distant memory


Memory of my childhood

My innocence

Friendship in its earliest form

Its purest, unadulterated version


Given to me by my dearest friend

You are a time capsule

Holding the most precious relic of my youth

Reminding me of what I once had


A fossil preserving my past

Leaving it’s handprint on my history

Blessed reminder of the intangible innocence

We are all susceptible to losing


So you my Matryoshka doll

Are more than a bittersweet memento

You’re a sentimental postcard from the past

Forever sitting on my shelf



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