To my sweet little Phoenix: A poem 

These dots of you, I explore, are not punctuation marks 

They bloom over the horizon like coloured arcs 

I could rub you for hours on hours 

A furry baby, beside me, like a gift from stars 

making a cradle of me, like a piano has bars 

And I know precious life is not only human; woe 

to the reign of man, who takes up all the waterholes 

and inflicts rape and rapine on the earth 

The rest give the earth much comfort 

The rest have no conditions on display of love and loyalty 

They are not traitors to the earth’s unabridged royalty 

I remember the day a large dog running loose 

almost attacked you, made me jump out of my shoes 

It is love that we seldom hesitate to choose 

And I am surrounded by a fortress of crews 

of pictures that keep me from the noose 

of loneliness. And I know that love doesn’t die in a grave 

It is a privilege to be its slave