Five fat fingers, each
Haloed with its own profound
Dimple-
Deep and then spreading
In a glaze-thin layer
Until all the baby roundness
Has seeped and dripped off-
Licked and lapped up
Until the spoon is clean and
Not even one hint of that sticky
Sweet messy memory has
Staying
Power-
The hands have grown
Nimble fingers,
Fingers that don’t want to be held.
those poems.com 
Oh that bittersweet transformation! This made me cry…at the loss of those sweet little dimpled,chubby hands!
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