My True Friend

He came to me in a long white box, pristine

One of thousands until I made him my own

A sympathetic ear to vent my troubles

My one true companion when I’m alone

Always patiently sitting, waiting on the bed

To take the hugs and tears the world would spurn

Painted aquamarine eyes blind to my faults

A refuge when there’s nowhere else to turn

The passing years have left their mark behind,

Bruised and battered with world-weary airs,

The stains and scars remind me ever more

Of the character whose name he shares

Dirty hands too often held, tangled hair with faded dye,

Joints that creak and crack with every bend

Although he may be just a doll to most,

To me he’ll always be a true friend