Stuffed Cat
It wasn’t what it would have expected to become,
but it had no memory of ever having
expected anything. It just was. A strange
assortment of grey, fuzzy cloth, thread,
stuffing, and plastic. The junction of
the head and body pieces was feeble,
the head flopping weakly to one side.
The little girl fell asleep clutching it
with all of the strength of her tiny arm,
pressing it firmly to her side. Children
are so clumsy with life. It spills out of them
and stains everything they look at. The more
faded its eyes became, the more energy
collected in its soft fibers. The secrets she
whispered into its ears, the songs she sang
as she toddled, holding it by one paw.
It started to feel her terror when the lights
were turned off, wonder with her
in her solitary flights. It became its own form,
the giver of the comfort that she needed,
that she learned she could create.