His New Life by Francesca Hunt His New Life In a box, Very little room. Dark, Sad, forgotten, Alone, No sense of time. Days, Years, pass. Still in the box, Cramped, Silent, No child to hug. Movement, Strange sensation, Lid removed. Painful to his broken eyes, Sounds detected by his crumpled ears, Warmth of touch. Soap and suds, Soft towels and loving hugs. A new ribbon, A new owner, No attic box. The Old Bear sits with pride. -- Francesca Hunt Attachment Posted on 30/05/2016 by Kieren Taylor filed under poetry poet competition regrowth No comments (Add your own) Add a New Comment Your Name: Your Email/URL (Optional): Your Comment: Enter the code you see below: Comment Guidelines: No HTML is allowed. Off-topic or inappropriate comments will be edited or deleted. Thanks.