Poem 3

"Flash Back"

Deep in my parent’s closet,
bundled tightly in old, discolored thank you bags,
I discover my once guarded possession.
I unravel it from the intertwine tangles of extension cords in the box,
and raise the dusty object with bewilderment.
Previously covered by rich, mocha brown fur
is now crusty like a burnt toast.
Its once gleaming, jet black marble like eyes
are now replaced with drooping mismatched buttons.
Limbs are attached by unbounded
stitches in which cotton foams spew out.
My mother would stitch back the eyes and limbs.
She was the best teddy bear surgeon
and I would always commemorate her for that.
The damaged triangle ears
and the missing smile overwhelmed my emotions.
I place its scorched, chestnut back on my legs.
With its half frown, half smile face, I
cautiously listen for its once existing soft spoken voice.
I hear nothing but the breath of my sigh.