I enjoyed the joys of woodland,
cuddled in my mother's pouch.
With her, I gleed back and forth,
without any fewer kinds of ouch.
With my twee paws I crawled,
in between a eucalyptus fork.
Barely imagined it turning into
topaz flames holding back to bork.
We see 'Humans are motile',
in thoughts, actions and words.
And you know ' Koalas are stabile',
in respects that cannot be unheard.
Tell my mommy I poorly wailed,
if spotted sobbing not just for me and
burning homes of our families but
because moving humans delayed to hail.

.    .    .