Harry

Harry was exceedingly soft spoken. He lived in a eucalyptus tree totally unaware that Dream Time was over.
Harry was a fuzzy koala bear.
He often flew Quantas to places with names I can’t spell and you couldn’t pronounce. He wore black hornrimmed wayfarers and was extremely mild mannered behind those shades.
One day he met the cutest Kangaroo you’ve ever seen in a place called Vanuatu. They became lovers and moved to Flores Island, a little east of Java. Here they cavorted in the Flores Sea, and ran along white sand beaches so beautiful tears would well up in your eyes if you ever saw them.
After several years of this, Harry began to miss his eucalyptus tree.
Cindy the Kangaroo couldn’t understand this. “Don’t you love me anymore?” She said one sunny afternoon as she lounged beneath a coconut tree that made shade right up to the water's edge.
“I love you like sun,” Harry said softly and slowly.
“Then why, my lover would you want to go back to Brisbane and sit in a eucalyptus tree all day long. I can’t even climb trees.” Cindy said.
“You could live right beneath the tree, and lay your head on the roots there that make a comfortable cradle before they go under ground,” Harry said. “We would be happy.”
Cindy never did get it, and Harry left a note that said simply: you know where to find me.
Cindy cried a thousand bitter tears. Harry lived out his days without regret, in his eucalyptus tree, behind his black hornrimmed Wayfarers, speaking softly to the birds that happened by.
He never went to find her and strangely she never came to find him. Harry never saw Cindy again. He did; however, live happily ever after.