Duck Duck

Little hands grasped around the tiny duck,
His dominant black eyes warming my heart from that very day.

Well loved and well worn,
Tactile and soft with an edge of roughness from being held so tight,
The faded colours still stand strong, worn patches of dirt and muck from the playground floor,
Spun around and around the washing machine many times,
Indents of pegs on his beak where he hung on line.

Old and new stiches placed oddly over the seams,
Where memories would bleed from inside,
Each stich showing a different adventure,
Duck duck, has travelled the country
He has been everywhere with me, from place to place.

Over time he has slowly wilted
Waking up every morning under my bed,
From the restless night sleep to a sound night sleep,
He keeps me safe,
I keep him safe,

The tones of yellow fading away,
The memories of a life time fill my heart,
Handmade with care, twisted with love, shaped with colour and life,
My treasured toy filled with memories of every kind.