Tiny shelled crab, in glass house with luxury abound,
it's cover a marvel, sought with care
remembers water, curses the dry sand.
Arthropod with long whiskers, designed to feel and taste,
instead hears of your paradise, wonders where you are
confused by happiness and rage, slowly drying out.
Uneven arms speak of potential, tenderness and strength,
tough times: the strong a dragged anchor, the weak to lift the self
hope for rain fades, grumbles over dry pellets.
"Be a flower without water", to yield is a disgrace,
Bad advice from sadists and le roi, no cake to grace the stomach
Survey the plot again, Hermit Tree Crab
ROT-29
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Still alive
Been feeling a bit nostalgic. Not about to return to LiveJournal - their new ownership is unfortunate, but I wanted to briefly note what's been up…
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Unplugging LJ
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Mutual Trust
I don't know which should be considered more remarkable: That a cat should trust a member of a far larger and stronger species that it can't…
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