The bear I wanted to be when I
grew up,
Before I grew up and turned out to be me,
Comes by sometimes, usually on a Sunday,
With coffee and fresh Boston Creme donuts.
He can do things I can't -- ride a bike, juggle --
But does them now just to keep his hand in;
He bought the circus years ago. When he dances
With some spangle-tights girl he wears a tuxedo.
I intended none of this but he has no wish
To live in a forest. The closest he comes these days
Is when he walks his dog -- a spaniel -- in the park.
Before I grew up and turned out to be me,
Comes by sometimes, usually on a Sunday,
With coffee and fresh Boston Creme donuts.
He can do things I can't -- ride a bike, juggle --
But does them now just to keep his hand in;
He bought the circus years ago. When he dances
With some spangle-tights girl he wears a tuxedo.
I intended none of this but he has no wish
To live in a forest. The closest he comes these days
Is when he walks his dog -- a spaniel -- in the park.
My totem animal, also a bear, does
not trust him.
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