Golden fur, bright knowing eyes,
moveable joints, leather-patched paws,
squeeze-box stomach with a rumbling growl,
bow-tie and a nonchalant smile
stitched in black,
hugged under the blankets,
perched in a tree,
dragged through the mud,
dropped in puddles
upside down,
peeping through portholes in a monsoon,
two ocean voyages across the world
before the age of nine,
the third time abandoned on a shelf,
for now they said
I was too old for teddy bears.
‘In Pursuit of a Bear’
