Ode to my brown bear

You were there before memory. Before voices had names, before light had meaning you were there. Brown as warm bread, soft as a breath held in sleep, you waited. And I held you. You were there. Through the quiet nights where shadows danced on walls and thunder cracked the sky like glass you never blinked. You never left. Your button eyes have seen more tears than the stars above my window, but never once Did they judge You were there. When the world got louder, when I got taller, when toys came and went, you stayed. Your seams grew tired, your fur thinned in patches, but your silence remained faithful. You are more than stuffing and thread you are the weight in my arms when I didn’t know how to hold myself together. You were there. I’ve outgrown so much shoes, stories, even people but not you. You still sit on my shelf, crooked ear, familiar face, like a small, quiet lighthouse for every storm that might return. You were there. You are still. And somehow, you always will be.