"Who's My Friend?"

My little friend has brown skin.

He's a bit bumpy but smooth to the touch.

His springs are tight so he had a bite,

As he holds with worn teeth.

His lips push out as he grips hard,

Strings going in between his gaps.

His eyes stay staring as if wary.

His skin shines dully.

And I notice a scratch on his chin,

As I watch him hang on next to his kin.