Teddy: bare

The warmth, the cuteness
of a happy childhood
made wool (and stuffing),
promoting pseudo-memories,
working on our vision of
‘how-it-ought-to-be’;
fairy tale wholesomeness
snuggling up beside
the sugar-coated choice to believe
in toffee-apple happiness.

What tales could teddies tell
of lonely nights and lonelier days,
of cold middle-class disapproval,
of bitter layers of strictures
piled on rigid discipline?
What fading, crumpled voice
might teddies have
to relieve us of our
caustic delusions?
What honesty in those
hollow eyes
haunts our
secret misery.

© Elfstone 12/5/09