Antique doll,  fragile as a delicate whisper— limbs like slender twigs. She sits in silence, soft echo of a bygone era, a relic of forgotten dreams. Each touch a tremor, every bump  a threat to shatter her delicate form— a silent cry trapped within her painted smile. A single misstep,  a careless nudge  could unravel her existence. An enigma in  cream lace— a wisp of time in a suspended glass case,  waiting for a gentle hand to keep her delicate dance intact— yet knowing the gentlest touch  could render to dust.