(This peom is related to "Suddendusk & Quick Fang's Recognition" - see listing for more related stories.)
He doesn't look like him - that's obvious and plain
Why, then, do I dream - why do I hope in vain?
A cubling in my arms, my first and brightest light
To shelter him from harm - to keep him in my sight
To teach him through the nights, to hold him through the days
To watch him take to flight - to have him fade away
I had more luck than some - I have another child
Her time had also come, though tumulus and wild
She'll have one soon as well, a girl or little boy
I know I shouldn't dwell on lost and broken joy.
But I can't help but think... sweet Otter, look at me
Oh, do I see a link, a hint that might yet be?
Did something of his eyes, did something of his face
Did not forever die, but lives through last embrace?
I had more luck than most; I know it through my pain
Against what I have lost I weigh another gain
Why can't I help but dream of cubs with snowy furs
Together by the stream - one his, the other hers?
Sweet Otter, one more glance, please let my eyes explore
And seek another chance - another and some more
And if I look enough, perhaps it might yet seem -
Oh Whitestag, cubling, love -
He doesn't look like him.