Velveteen Rabbit

A mother, a teacher, a student, a wife,
a daughter, still, at this point in my life;
the vigour of Vikings
runs strong in my veins,
“You’re a velveteen rabbit,”
Mum said, whatever that means,
and though I thought I was a disappointment
despite what she said, she repeated
it often, even that last time,
her death bed.
A story teller, friend,
sometimes I’m wise,
a completer by no means,
have been known to tell lies
but not often, I think,
not unless I’ve changed my past
to sit better, well, perhaps
rearranged. 
Still travelling with hope,
still have time to arrive.
I’m not finished yet.
So far, still alive.
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One Comment on “Velveteen Rabbit”

  1. Karen says:

    I am so pleased to see this poem here; it's so emotive thank you for sharing it here.

    Like


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