He was the kind of bonny teddy bear, in gentle brown hues, that childhood dreams of night and day are made from. His fur was kitten-soft, his smile as an offered cup to hold-safe childish emotions whatever they may be. In his eyes was warmth, ever a sparkle in their loving-black. As such he was the perfect companion, the perfect hand to hold.
My teddy bear was no bear at all, but a little lamb. I had her from babyhood and in the many years that passed she was a great source of comfort. Her white wooly coat became more grey, yet I loved her so. Even in my teen years, there she was, sat upon the bed, my treasure.
The teddy bear had once been the kind of orange that brought vivid summer flowers to the imagination, yet now in his older years he was more sepia in hue. In his form, in the replacement of his stuffing and the assortment of handmade clothing he wore, it was easy to see that he had been a very loved bear. And his name was Orange Ted.