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
Still travelling with hope,
still have time to arrive.
I’m not finished yet.
So far, still alive.

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.


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