"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.