Hi! I'm a pink mitten
Smothered and smitten,
Discarded in dust and dirt,
Under the flannel shirt;
I beg and beseech in this letter
For reviving days that were better;
Remember that November six,
Granny rewarded you a twix
To ease the wheeze and wail
Of little you, fragile and frail;
That brown stain I still behold
On cuff that you no longer unfold.
On December Nine,
A winter morning so fine,
You sneakily fled to a park
Chanting chimes of Baby Shark;
Tear in my soft fabric
And wear on your thumb
From twig you swung like wand of magic
Gosh! You were so dumb.
Then came December twenty five,
Christmas spirits came alive,
I was hung on that tree so high,
Under the mistletoe you stood, all shy;
You got your present from Andy
While I still beheld that candy,
The snowman with my buttons as eyes,
The peek-a-boo with unspoken lies,
Your gleeful giggles,
Your waddling wiggles,
Your smelly snot,
I knew you well as a tiny tot.
Until the day I was thrown here
In this dark corner of your wardrobe, I share
With your barbies and cars
All memories with no scars.
As I lay abandoned and abased,
I look at you and I'm so amazed,
Eyes that went so bright at any object
Are now dreary and dull of the abject,
All I hear inside closet are helpless sighs
That morph into contemptuous cries;
And teary dribbles.
Who are you?
I ask in rue;
I understand you're a teen
But that child, now lost, was so keen;
She got up whenever she fell
In lieu of sulking, "It will be well."
She would go watch the frozen falls
And not aimlessly lurk in malls;
She would fight her friend
For hurting her in the end;
But I see you cutting your wrist,
Bruising where I sat, yes, that fist.
Once you grew big and me so little
You started to fumble and fiddle,
What say we turn back all tick-tocks
And go back to days in flip-flops?
Me and you on our usual trail
Where no expectations would fail.
Both of us agree
On this proven fact,
Winter was full of glee
When we knew no tact.
Let's wash all our stains,
Sneak again, but now from pains,
Weave the wool of euphoria,
To rediscover our innocent utopia.
You might have forgotten me altogether
Still, I beg and beseech in this letter
For reviving days that were better.