The One Who Hasn’t Been Named

I thought rescuing you would be better
Than your being hounded by men,
With sticks who chased you out
To be hounded by territorial strays again:
A vicious cycle that I broke
By bringing you home; and not thinking
Of what would become of you with me:
A tender connection, an inevitable linking,
That I would end up feeling over.
Emotions are so easily made;
They form almost as easily as you,
Running into my arms the moment
I held them out to you,
Like some fool-hardy egotistical saviour.
It takes seconds for a bond to take hold,
It takes forever for it to be broken,
It’s a yoke that’s man’s best and worst,
Where nothing ever need be spoken.

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