From North South, A Short Story Collection: Waking Teddy B., by Rebecca Moll

On a cold December morning,
We lost the one we loved,
Gone on forever,
To whom we place our trust.

The day wore on forever,
As the cold crept in our bones,
Mountain winds blew down,
And shook our humble homes.

Just before the sun set,
We laid him out to wake,
All his kin were present,
Grim faced, prepared to take.

A burden on forever,
A sight too hard to bear,
Memories came a-flooding,
Our hearts were sure to tear.

Frank the undertaker,
Ned, the Preacher man,
Winding up a long one,
His eulogy on hand.

Preacher's voice a-blaring,
And Della ‘bout to cry,
Back door went a-slamming,
Ma hollered, “Get inside.”

Dinner is a-waiting,
Guess who’s here again?
Preacher makes it seven,
Last one in’s not fed.

Nightfall came a cold one,
Snow way beyond our nose,
Teddy B.’s forsaken,
For sure, forever froze.

Snow kept up ‘til Spring time,
A-waiting for the thaw,
Finally the ground bore,
And this is what we saw:
Crocus sprout all over,
Where Teddy B. was laid,
Two button eyes remaining,
And a velvet bow displayed.

In the winter of ‘47,
Della lost the one she shared,
Gravestone name engraved:
“Brown Teddy Bear.”

Near sixty years have passed,
Fourth generation’s here,
Ma & Pa gone on to heaven,
And I may soon, I fear.

This story needs a-telling,
I give it to you straight,
Teddy B., he was famous,
Childhood memories,
Ain’t they great?

Rebecca Moll
4-24-04