Waiting
By Laura M
All day he sits waiting
My small, soft toy chicken stays on my bed,
For nearly 10 years he stayed the same.
The smell of home and childhood
Lingers on his fur, which has worn with time,
Discoloured, like old fabric.
The yellow that once was there,
Now covered in years of time,
Shows beneath the crevices of his coarse fur.
It feels like dust and memories,
Memories of holidays and faraway places,
He has been everywhere I have.
I hold him in my hands, like a precious antique,
Feeling the beads that once filled him, now scarce,
My soft toy chicken, although changed, he stays the same.
