Like a day moon seen apart from a prime sun
Like a dewdrop on the grasses in the afternoon
Sometimes she is visible with her gossamer wings
Flitting over the clouds, then the arc of rainbows.
One swirling of her wand, and magic starts:
Grief decreases in halves, happiness doubles.
They need her, and so do you, to use her goodness
as an instant receipt for your rude fat wishes.
The never-ending abundance of kindness bestows
On your insatiable needs becoming incessant demands
Because her innocent joy is your defiled jealousy
And what does she get? – Tears you can’t care less.
A Cat in the Mirror 