I lost it

"It's just a toy," they used to tell me,
"made of cotton and stuffing."

But I knew better.

When no one was around,
He came alive!
Hopping and bouncing,
And laughing and playing.

As I got older,
He stopped laughing so loudly,
And bouncing so high.
It just sat there collecting dust.

It wasn't the toy that lost its vitality,
It was me—I let others take it away.

Why do I keep making that mistake—
listening to others—when I know better?

Next time I'll know better.

If there is a next time.