The Inanimate Pet

A jumble sale on a Sunday morning
A little girl of five
She buys a jacket of soft brown fur
For she thought it was alive

She carries it home in her arms
Stroking each strand of hair
She hasn't a clue of the torture put through
It was stripped of its skin and left bare

A week passed, yet she hasn't realized
That those eyes are buttons, that tail a sleeve
Her mother has told her "It's a jacket not a pet"
She simply holds him tight and refuses to believe

And so she keeps him, forever by her side
She even lets him sleep in her cozy little bed
Her mother tried to tell her,her father chipped in too
But neither could make her understand
That her furry little friend was dead...