In the semi-darkness of my chamber,
Across a suspended sea of childhood memories,
Your marble eyes implore me to let you go.

My old friend,
Your slumped body has succumbed
To the gravity of what I have told only to you;
Your soul has faded with my years.

But a box in the dusty attic,
Beneath the photo albums,
Is not where you belong.

I wish I had the strength to say goodbye
To your brown fur, white ears, and white snout,
But you’re too special to me,
And I refuse to let the spiders prod your stuffing.

I will clutch you as long as I can.