Memories of the past
By Isabella C
Published 17 September 2014
his scruffed yellow fur and red beady eyes
Tells me the past from which my Mother survived
It tells me of when Mother was a child
When threats and violence were part of her world
Sand bags lay around the windows
Curtains were shut tight
I hold his little leather paws
And how lucky i am to have her as my mother
This little bear is definitely my special thing.