The dolls
in the doll's house
sit perfectly
still
petrified with fright
as the gigantic eye
of the little girl
peers in
the left hand corner window
of where
they live.
They don't
say a word
until she
leaves
a voice
calling her
for: 'Tea! '
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tea-for-byran/
