The Faithful Companions

Reggie came by post, a swap. So little

in his duffle coat, and loveable, most of all

for his high-pitched, child-like voice, and the way

he said his name was ‘Weggie.’ He was white,

a polar bear, unusual in a toy.

Charlie had been loved more; his yellow fur

was worn. He was a bare bear in a box

of scruffy Beanies at the Christmas Fayre.

We couldn’t tell his mood; he had no mouth

but looked cold and bedraggled, so a trip

to Bear Essentials was arranged, where Charlie

chose a green T-shirt with ‘Good Luck!’ on the front.

Charlie’s voice was low and slow. His lack of mouth

did not prevent long discourses with Reg

and every day they’d wait beside the window

to see their friends come home. At six o’clock

they’d join us at the table, quite content

to eat small morsels from each dinner plate.

After, they’d fall silent when their voices

would go to their computers to engage

in swordfights with imaginary foes

oblivious to the lonely bears below.

First published in Reach Poetry

 

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