January 2014



Too Old

By: Molly Malczynski

 

His sad, unblinking eyes stare at me.

Why did you leave me? he seems to call.

I grew too old for you, I say to him, as if he can talk back.

He stays in his never changing position,

Perched on the sunny window sill.

A bright smile stitched on his face,

Faded green buttons for eyes,

His ears worn down from years of play;

His expression never changes.

Dust gathers on top of his soft, fuzzy head.

It gathers on his colorful arms and legs,

Candy-colored stripes running down them

Still warm to the touch,

As if I had only just put him down.

His face is full of longing,

A longing to be played with

Once more.

It’s as if he’s frozen in time,

A time when I was still a child,

Pigtails in my hair, a smile on my face,

And never-ending energy.

He sits patiently, waiting.

He waits for a hug that will never come.