"How do humans stand us, Xeronee?" I asked, yearning to nibble on his eyes, as I watched him run away in horror from me towards the ship.

"Oh, my little dainty shrimp! Why do you run away? Don't ancient seas rise within your body, too? Isn't the sunrise in your blood that laps at the shores of your bones like the yearnings in this scaly crab armor I now wear like an ailing knight at arms? Amour! Amour!

"The human that I once was remembers! That old English Earth poet George Crabbe knew our fate, Xeronee. Remember "The Village" we had to learn in school on Beta 7 as kids. Well, now I, not the thistles, am stretching my 'prickly arms afar' towards you.

"Remember the line later in the poem, 'O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade'? Let me be that yellow flower; let me shade you, Xeronee! XERONEE, COME BACK!!!"

[Editor's note: see my response for a summary of the story to date!]