When he first met them, they were little hands;
Hands that reached for him through every crevice.
Through every crevice reached new threats to him,
Threatening to stain his butterscotch coat.
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His butterscotch coat was stained with blood;
Blood from pain, victories, and love.
Love came with much victory and pain;
Pain of growth and butterflies in his stomach.
Growing was the pain in his stomach;
His appetite grew to be more vigorous.
His love grew to be more vigorous
As he knew his final days were coming.
His final days came as he knew they would.
When he last met them, they were little hands.
