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.
Copyright © Ayla Lockhart | Year Posted 2025
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