The Stroller

I walked up to her
As she was bending down
Touching her baby
In the stroller.

She was talking baby talk
And cooing
Touching the infant
Over and over again
Just like a new mother would.

The mother was dressed in fine clothes.

A wool suit
With skirt and jacket
And a hat to match
With a flower of grey corresponding felt.

An obviously sophisticated woman
That smelled of money.

As I got closer
Something struck me as odd.

The stroller was small
And cheap looking...
Like a child’s toy.

A contrast to this rich lady.

Out of the corner
Of my eye
I saw the tiniest pair of patent leather shoes.

She continued to talk
Adjusting the baby’s clothes
Over and over.

I noticed then
That the baby was a doll.

A small unproportionate likeness
To a real baby
Much as the stroller.

Caught off guard
I was uneasy
And kept walking.

The mother looked up at me
As I passed
And I could see the distance
In her eyes.

She was spun out
And gone.