He’s still with Brooke; sighs in her sleep,
tiny tiger snuggled deep,
cradled safe where cuddles keep.

Tears spilled not to wash away
her bright-eyed boy;
just keep at bay
the yearning selfish ache to hold
her Loki warm for one more day.

In shadowed rooms I hear that wheeze
and close my eyes to briefly seize
his precious presence as it flees.

Her shoulder still his favored perch,
ever green his gaze,
successful in his valiant search
Devotion Pure he gladly gave, with Boundless, Blinding Trust
and in return, in life received, what death can never smirch.

Born to earthly struggle, life dealt him hands of pain,
eight months of perseverance, fought simply to remain,
must ever be respected – love left must not complain.

Was his time a gift he gave,
part of a fateful plan,
or simply tossed upon a wave
not meant to understand? I only know
between the two, both were somehow saved.