Stuffed Cow

This is a tribute to my stuffed cow, Bob, and to children that never die.

A black and white cow
Sits on the rocking chair
His black button eyes
Staring blankly at the wall
His fur is all dotted
With stains and patches
As if he does not
Care at all

He once was a cow
Of enormous stature.
He was the plaything
Of a babe, soft and sweet.
In those days he was new
With soft fur unstained
And a bell around his neck
That rang to the beat

In those days he was always
By the babe’s side
When she slept, when she played,
And sometimes when she ate
Soon, from being loved,
He had stains on his coat
And his hair became all matted
From cycles of the wash.


But now he is old
And sits on the rocking chair
A small, little reminder
That childhood never dies.

A black and white cow
Sits on the rocking chair
His black button eyes
Staring blankly at the wall
His fur is all dotted
With stains and patches
As if he does not
Care at all