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Was I really only five
The night I saw her heart?
With rage that I could not conceive
She tore my bear apart
With vehemence, she yelled at me
And sent me off to bed
I lay awake so long that night
Confusion in my head
The bear had come from Daddy
And stood as tall as me
I took him everywhere I went
He filled my heart with glee
How could Mama hate my bear?
What was it he had done?
I was too young to understand
The bear was not the hated one
Bereft of the only comfort I knew
I cried myself to sleep
But on the other side of the door
My Mama’s heart did weep
Deep in the night I awakened
Saw the light beneath my door
Quietly arising, I tiptoed across the floor
Peeking out, I saw her there
Thread and needle on the table
I watched in silent wonder
As she did what she was able
Tying up the last of the stitching
She saw me standing there
And bid me come out to her
Holding up my mended bear
I timidly approached her
Scarcely believing what I saw
I took him ever gently
And held him up in awe
Mama pulled me closer to her
Tears streaming down her face
And held me for a moment
In a rare and warm embrace
Now, forty-three years later
And Mama gone just four,
I still can see her beauty
As if looking through that door
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