Ted

On those rare occasions
when Mum got cross
and told me off,
do you remember
when I used to whisper
in your ear,
but always loud enough
for her to hear,
‘We hate her, don’t we Ted’.

And how, sometimes,
if I was in the middle
of a childhood tantrum,
I would throw you across the room.

Sorry, Ted.
I accept, now,
that was no way to treat a bear.
But not once did you complain.

Today, your fur
is worn away -
by love,
and by wear and tear.

You had a tough time Ted,
but mostly
you were loved.
And still are.