POEM: The Teddy Bear

I used to be a boy’s best friend.

I was his birthday gift when he turned five.

He loved me instantly,

And we became friends for what I hoped to be forever.

He called me Teddy.

I was a big Teddy bear,

And I was a big part of the boy’s life,

Both literally and figuratively.

For years, I had been his best friend.

Mom and Dad got him a double bed just so that I could always be close to him,

And he could hug me whenever he wanted a hug.

When he was happy,

I was happy.

When he was sad,

I was there to comfort him.

My soft heart was his cushion.

Year after year I watched him grow.

Going to school.

Learning to bike.

Making friends.

Playing basketball.

And I loved him all the same.

Every time he made a new friend,

I was happy for him.

I was never worried that he would forget about me.

I felt loved and cared about,

And that was all I wanted.

What else could a Teddy bear possibly want?

Then he turned sixteen.

He met a girl,

She was his first kiss.

They started going out.

One by one, the toys started leaving his childhood room.

He wasn’t about toys anymore,

He was all about Star Wars posters and cool gadgets.

I got moved to the guest room along with the other plush toys.

I watched as the toys were given away,

Some to other children,

Some to charity shops.

My best friend was all grown up now.

I was the last one to leave.

It was a time when people didn’t get together,

Afraid of a terrible disease that had taken over the world.

I didn’t make it to another of his friends or their younger siblings,

Nor did I go to a charity shop.

And they couldn’t keep me.

Turns out, I was taking up too much space.

I ended up on the curbside in front of the house where I spent so many years as the boy’s best friend.

And here I am, outside, alone.

Passersby walk down the street,

And I can tell they are surprised to see me on the curbside.

Usually, the curbside is a passage for old furniture and other inert objects,

But have you ever seen a human-size Teddy bear next to fractured chairs and broken tables?

I can only hope that this is not the end for me.

I’m still in good shape and I wish I could find a new home.

I say a prayer.

Please don’t let me rot here.

Please give me a new life.

My friend outgrew me, but maybe there is another child out there who would love to have a Teddy bear as a friend to brighten his days and keep close to his heart at night.

~~~~~~~~~~

From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page 140.