Return of a Beloved Rodent

It’s been years, Mickey –

More than  fifty

and suddenly you turn up

in a box from family

I receive in the mail.

You’re a bit worse for wear,

but don’t give it a thought!

Aren’t we all?

In any case,

the moment I saw your beaming face,

I didn’t care about ravages of time

because you were here with me in my home.

I know you belong to my brother,

not to me, but from the moment I saw you again

I was captivated

I was charmed

I swore I’d help you get yourself back together.

Where have you been all this time?

In a basement or an attic,

or stuffed into a drawer for years

when no one sought you, hugged you, loved you.

No one even washed your face!

And your black mouse ears

and your shoes and pants and hands – all gone.

The fabric of your body, this tear in your cloth

reveals your ancient stuffing.

You were Johnny’s special friend.

I close my eyes and see you two again,

him holding you tight.

He’s continents away just now,

but don’t despair!

I’ll take care of you until he returns.

I’ll put you back together.

After all, I’m the one in the family who knows how to sew.

I’ll make you new hands and gloves, shoes and skin and clothes

and cherish you for yourself and for

all the good, and glad, and wonderful

times you brought us.

I’m so grateful you’ve returned,

you, our aging but still beaming Mickey Mouse.

                                    Kate Lydon Varley