Boris The Bear Tells Himself A Story

In the window at home there’s a sweet little bear,

slightly tattered, not torn, but missing some hair.

He sits kind of floppy, and propped with a view,

watching and waiting and thinking of you.

A bear you can see by his worn looking face

that’s been treasured and favored

with his own special place.

Loved from the beginning,

he’s been very well fed

on the dreams of girl

and all the things in her head.

He’s enjoyed the all pleasures of years

two, three, four, five, and soon six,

he’s her favorite he knows,

the one she always picks.

But today is somehow different,

someone’s taken his place,

it’s that silly old Pooh Bear who’s crowding his space.

Beside his dear girl as she goes for the day

he wonders what they’re up to

missing her greatly

in his bear sort of way.

Growing up can be scary for a bear on his own

he’s been a faithful companion and rarely alone.

He sits and he watches and wishes she’d phone.

‘ I am here and I miss you,’ is just what he’d say,

‘ Will you be home soon, are you on your way? ‘

He knows it’s silly to be sad and so blue

as her little girl heart can love much more

than a old bear or two.

One day when she’s older

with hair that’s gone grey

she’ll have trouble remembering

things like his name,

when she got him,

or the games that they played.

He’s heard all the stories

from bears on the street

when the children aren’t looking

and they’ve a moment to speak.

They whisper in passing

of changes to come,

but for now he’s still Boris,

and her number one.

Yesterday after a long day out, I noticed Jersey Girl’s favorite bear Boris sitting in the window. He’d been left there in the morning by JG posed on the window ledge so that he could see outside while she was out exploring with us. I was lucky to see him when I did managing to get two quick shots before she grabbed him up to join us at the table for dinner. She didn’t know I was outside taking pictures and in the second photograph, you can just make out her ear and the side of her face as she is reaching for him.

I began the little bear story this morning and what came out has as much to do with my relationship with an old stuffed bunny from my childhood as it does with Jersey Girl and Boris, her bear. This is one of the things I love most about writing, you begin a story thinking it is about one thing and suddenly another story begins to reveal itself along the way.

I would be interested to know if you remember a favorite toy or stuffed animal and can you remember its name ?

6 thoughts on “Boris The Bear Tells Himself A Story

  1. Hello to Boris. I’m so glad he liked the story. I did, too.

    As for well-loved childhood companions, Taffy, my caramel-coloured soft dog, is at this moment resting comfortably at home in Sydney.

    And, by a coincidence of timing with your Boris post, I have here in New Jersey my son’s Pete (dog) and Mr. Monkey (self-explanatory), on their way from Australia to Washington, D.C. — travelling all those miles in my carry-on bag, of course — MUCH too precious to go into checked luggage!

    Cheers and thanks to Boris and Jersey Girl for inspiring such a lovely post (and thanks to the poet too!).

  2. Have you considered that this poem/story would make a lovely children’s picture book??? And with your photo skills you could even do the pics, using Boris, of course! Seriously!

    BTW, I’m a sucker for teddy bears and Boris just looks adorable.

  3. Hello JG and Boris,
    You 2 look like you are having such a great time; lovely to read what you are up to. It’s a bit too quiet at AC. x

  4. Oh yes. Ohhh yes. for reasosn now gone into teh mists of time my wine dolly (I guess that was a whine dolly but she did nothing of the sort) was it. It survived well, I was not hard on my toys. One day it was due to be sent to the dolly’s home in the sky despite being in good shape, I protested loudly – bear in mind I’m in my 20’s at least at this point – and I think I still have her somewhere. Well I hope so. She had a plastic face of a sweet baby, was otherwise was a mint romper suit. She had a little key in the back: wind it up and it played Brahm’s Lullabye. What’s not to love??!

    Thank you for this little rhyme,

    I read it all and had a good time.

    Bears need folks to love them well

    My little dolly I thought was ‘si belle’.

    The art of the ditty is clearly not lost;

    All children have a toy they love the most.


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