His eyes a grey that somehow sparkled,
His once grand blue that has since departed.
Behind his neck, a hole remains,
We said that we would fix it someday.
It thinned as its insides fell out,
Letting its neck bend twist.
As he aged and wearied,
I aged and aged.
I hold him with my index and my thumb,
I notice,
His eyes are sadder now,
His blue is duller now.
But I remember.
How his eyes were grey and yet, they sparkled,
His blue so bright it almost glowed,
I remember stealing him from the shelves,
Of my Grandparent’s old shop.
I remember how I never let him go for years,
Yet, I remember how for years I let him go.



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