Tattered Old Mr Teddy Bear
In my bed, my childhood teddy layers next to me.
Absent mindedly I trace his now tattered seams,
And his matted brown fur from years of tears and hugs.
Even though I'm old and gray, privately we talk.
No, I'm not feeble-minded as some might think.
I talk to Teddy of my thoughts I had that day.
As long as I can speak, my Teddy is my guy.
He's my greatest listener where so many are not.
If he begins to talk, they'll surely take me away.
Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment