To My Liger Wristband
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You came to me,
curled from the heat
of a warm dryer
at Berkeley Bing.
Sprang, so-to-speak,
onto my loving arm.
Seen easily through your gaunt core
you're heart, pencil thin.
You spoke to me of comfort & strength
when I needed most
the blanket's courage of your feeble mane.
But now, dare I glimpse
our connections break,
as you escape from me,
my Grip.
Leapt, doubtless,
wrapped around the arm of another.
For your heart leaks gold;
is eager to please.
I can only hope it be because
I no longer need,
not you no longer Love.
I cannot possess the essence
of you, Liger,
for your spirit is too Free.
But in my heart
you will always, uncannily,
so long as my left arm end,
possess me.
