He sits alone upon his bed,
his aging fur threadbare.
I've always called him just old Ted,
cos he was always there.
He wiped my eyes when there were tears,
yet never moaned, or frowned.
He held my hand through childhood fears,
he was good to have around.
He'd be there with his knowing look
and an enigmatic smile,
He taught me more that any book,
about patience, poise and style.
He watched them as they'd come and go,
the toys, the girls, the years,
but through it all, he never showed,
bad temper, stress nor tears.
Now he is old and I am grown,
he still waits upon his bed,
the bravest, loyalest bear I've known,
my bestest friend 'Old Ted'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is unique and one of a kind. It has a happy rythm, one that many can use. I give it two thunmbs up and kudos to the author!