He’s just as old as me, or perhaps a little older,
a visual heartfelt memory, of times that were less colder,
lounging back in blue vest, proud stains upon his paws,
though he maybe tiger, there are no sign of claws,
he’s a sign of peace, that states, no fighting in the den,
in silent cotton wisdom, he reminds me to be Ben,
I look into his amber eyes, and I can clearly see,
after the fog of life wisps away, all I see is me,
he’s perched upon mock challis, of Tudor yesteryear,
to mark the rite of passage, orange juice to a beer,
a semblance of maturity, attaches to my child,
in times, to be a strongman, where I have to be less mild,
he’s stuffed tiger on the goblet, these things are my friends,
they will never leave my side, until my day beckons,
I need them to retell my soul, I have some wholesome roots,
his roar will echo into cup, a sound that has no mutes.
- Author: AuburnScribbler ( Offline)
- Published: September 21st, 2023 08:39
- Comment from author about the poem: A much needed break now, from the morose commentary on life, as I introduce you to my oldest non-sentient friend. Tigger the Tiger is his name, and reminding me is his game. He reminds me of where I come from, and acts as a symbol of grounding, if ever I do think, that I am some sort of god, (of which is a seldom thought, hahaha!) His throne is a goblet, that I bought at the Tower of London gift shop, and to me, it acts as a symbol of how far I've come as a person, as well as a trinket of travel, of which my opinion is, the more you travel, the more you learn. Accompanying the poem, is a picture of my furry friend and the goblet in question, along with the banner picture, which to me, is a somewhat visual representation of the fuzziness of the mind, when it comes to thoughts and memories. I hope that you enjoy this poem, even though it is a little self indulgent, it will be interesting to know, if you have an object of love too, and as always, please do stay safe everyone.
- Category: Special occasion
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