Imagination

 

As a child I lived in a family of six

But my father went to work everyday

And my mother was busy ironing, cleaning, changing

Babies from wet and fussy to dry and hungry.

My baby brothers did not talk to me

Neither did my little sister.

They were too young for words

So I had my imagination.

I lived, ate and slept with Bumpy

His work was loving me

And he never stopped listening, learning, loving,

With his big soft ears that I twiddled away

And his heart which was twice his size.

So my mother stopped her changing

To make him new ears out of baby socks

And my imagination never noticed.

Bumpy was worn out by living

His work was never done

Always there for me, body, soul, and heart.

Even when the stuffing leaked from his body

And his ears had no place to be sewed on.

Till one day he disappeared from my world

Leaving me his Bumpy philosophy

To fuel my imagination forever more.