- Vol. 03
- Chapter 05
The light doesn't dim in the eyes Of my teddy, who sits plum At the head of my bed,
His little nose matt-black Like a piece of coal Or a liquorice allsort.
His unerring gaze Doesn't follow me Around the room.
It takes in no judgement, Offers none; Offers nothing at all,
My little teddy, Except the softness of touch, The flesh and blood smell of memory.