When I was little I cuddled it tight.
It was warm and fuzzy.
Yellow and orange little black eyes.
It’s beak soft I patted it.
Even the hair upon its head was cottonish
It was the reason of my second word.
Sometimes it broke and needed to be stitched.
Once its little head popped off.
I cuddled it each night and my uncle gave to me when I was very little.
Its cotton and fluff and some soft fabric.
From a country market.
It’s is the item I treasure most.