another poem dug out from my deviantart account from
loooonnngggg ago.
I think most of us do talk to our teddies, treat them like our
friends when we were young. But when we got older, they are nothing
but a couple of stuff toys.
Withered roses
By the window
I sat there
Like a widow
I remember
Our past
So beautiful
And young
I wouldn't forget
Never will I
Our summers
And our laughter
I really hope
You do remember
All the fun we had
Until you left
Where are you now?
I'm so lonely
I waited for years
But you never came back
One day
If you recall
I'm your teddy
Your forgotten friend
