Gently exiled to a lonesome shelf,
Pitiful relic slumped alone with himself.
Gone are the days of hugs in the night.
Soothing tear-clotted fears, banishing fright.

Mismatched eyes that remember a friend,
Forlorn bystander since childhood’s end.
One oil-drop eye remains from younger days.
A button replaces the other with bright blue glaze.

Where are the fingers with the innocent touch?
Brown fur has paled with a once-faithful clutch.
Weeping white blood from stitches undone,
Battle wounds from giggling games of fun.

Memories are sown in each velveteen patch,
A scrapbook of memoirs in every torn scratch.
Once the most precious of all her possessions,
Forgotten in the glitter-storm of adolescence.