Sad Lion and Bouncing Bear

Sad Lion and Bouncing Bear,
perched up on the bed
looking down at Ned,
standing there,

Wondering about their world.
About the world beneath
The table and the chair,
Where the lions have no teeth,
Only cloth and cotton
And play-souls not forgotten.

But now the cloth is faded,
Stitching rotten, new friends gotten,
Old ones traded

For the world
Where the table is no sky
And it is the chair,
Instead of I,
That is knee-high.

A world of different dreams
Where many times it seems
That teeth are everywhere
And the bites are never ending.
Dear Lion and Bouncing Bear,
I must do more pretending.

Written in 1972 upon seeing Janice’s childhood stuffed toys, a sad-looking lion and an ebullient bear. They were overhead in Jill’s loft bed in the second floor sun porch room of Toad Hall where the three of us lived.