The Rise and Shining Alice

As morning light shines through the curtains,
An apparition of this sunny May,  
Souvenirs illuminate      
Upon the shelves display.  
   
And there,  
Just above a wreath of lilacs,  
So delicate, portrays  
Postcards and a set of portraits  
Of herself and all her friends.  
   
Sweet Alice slumbers humbly,  
Her bedside ticking twelves,  
With silence interwoven,  
Flowing golden in its wealth.      
   
With each tick, a simper flinches  
And she twitches ear to ear,  
So soft as music minus sound
Swirling meters in the air.      
        
With sleepy eyes she rouse and rises,  
Casting glances towards her door,  
“Was I dreaming?”  
“Was there more?"  
Alice pores over 'befores'.  
   
Before she slept,  
Before she woke,  
Before the sun kiss pressed it's lips,  
She can't recall quite when she laid  
Her head down here to rest.  
   
Everything was in it's place,  
And not an item out of order,      
Save for what’s besides a vase;  
A doll upon the dresser drawer.  
   
With it’s button eyes, golden hair  
And a dress all like her own,  
There was a likeness Alice could have sworn  
Was intended to be shown.  
   
Like a spool unwinding fantasy,  
She pulls on every thread,  
To ascertain what possibility  
Of where this doll had been.  
   
Indeed as Alice holds her like  
A dove betwixt her hands,  
It’s features matching all of hers,  
"Uncanny"’s what she said.      
        
"Who are you and how'd you get here?      
"I don't believe we’ve met,      
"You’re such a special thing and- Whoops!"      
They swiftly evanesce.