Love Object

Many children, when they’re very young, form an attachment to something that comforts them. It might be a dummy, a bit of blanket, a piece of muslin, a teddy, a soft toy or their own thumb.

For our daughter, it was a velvet covered, lentil filled frog which she had fallen in love with on a toy stall at a school fete.

She called him Froggo.

This poem is dedicated to all despairing parents who think their child will never be parted from whatever it is they can’t sleep without.

Froggo

I used to have a special friend

Who went everywhere with me

He was warm and soft and cuddly

And as loving as can be.

His body was soft and squishy

There were lentils in his tummy

We’d bought him at a school fete

He’d been made by someone’s mummy.

He’d listen when I talked to him

And always sympathise

And if I had been crying

He’d help me wipe my eyes.

When I needed someone to play with

He’d join me in a game

And if I was sad or miserable

Froggo would feel the same.

He always came to bed with me

So I never had bad dreams

I loved and cuddled him so much

He was splitting at the seams.

My brother didn’t like him

And hid him on a shelf

He must have been so lonely

Stuck up there by himself.

I tried to sleep without him

But it didn’t work at all

Even with the curtains open

And the light on in the hall.

Luckily mum found him

And just as well she did

We found a special Froggo box

And wrote Froggo on the lid.

By now he was leaking badly

There were lentils everywhere

We’d find them on the carpet

In my bed and in my hair.

There were lentils on my sheets

And lentils in my socks

They’d get stuck to my skin

So it looked like chicken pox.

He’d been sewn up so many times

He looked at me quite sadly

Mum said that she’d restuff him

But she did it rather badly.

Without his squishy lentils

I found I loved him less

I missed his leaking tummy

And the crumbly lentil mess.

Then one day I decided

Completely by myself

That I was too old for Froggo

And I left him on the shelf.

I still have all my dolls of course

And all my teddies too

But there’s no one quite like Froggo

For telling troubles to.

My mother keeps him in a drawer

I saw him the other day

The funny thing is that now my mum

Can’t bear to throw him away.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

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One Comment on “Love Object”

  1. Stephen says:

    I really enjoyed reading this


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