Refusing to let go, talons out on force,

Building bonds with friends galore,

Gold, Sword and Angel fish abound,

In the reaches of your fluid ground.

Sweet face upon the glass door,

You, ma turtle mate, are just a little off course,

Daily fare,  a mini ally needs small portions,

You scamper not, gentle wader you are,

A scintillating brown, in casual motion.

What more can I offer, instead,

But a cheerful face, one that contemplates,

Your comfort, your space, in this water-bed,

Providing a ledge, a throne for you to bask.

Layers of fresh air, sunlight, upon your casque.

You splash toward me,

Hoping for tasty bits, I disappoint I know,

But you need little much, just enough,

Overfed, my reach you would outgrow.

Bereft of you, sweet Tozhi, a life I’d deplore,

Stay, leave not for wider, faraway shores,

You’ll outlive me, future through,

I’ll have done right by you.