a small
lovingly worn
stuffed lamb
lays in the
evidence cage
a forlorn smile
stitched upon
the yellowed
white yarn
i try not
to look too
closely at it
not wanting
to see any
rust colored stains
trying not
to imagine why
a stuffed lamb
could be
considered evidence
it stares at me
accusingly
wondering why
i avoid
looking at it
maybe it senses
a broken little boy
desperate
for a hug
as images flash
of my own childhood
how my lost
red firetruck
could have been
evidence itself
i find myself
fighting tears
all because of
a lost lamb
in a cage instead of
in the arms of
the child that
had to have loved it
trying to escape
the smiling face
i cannot look at
This one tugs at my heart. Poignant-beautifully written.
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thank you, my friend. it was a sad moment.
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