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Friday, 23 October 2015

The Giraffe

By Marc Leavitt of Marc Leavitt's Blog

Sometimes I smile and almost laugh,
When contemplating the giraffe.
The giant, peaceful herbivore’s,
Polite, and disinclined to roar
(Though he might give out a bellow
If he meets a nasty fellow).

He likes acacia leaves to munch,
And cranes his neck to reach a bunch.
(Higher leaves are best, the upper,
Which he chomps on for his supper.
The giraffe’s taste in food is fine,
But not how we would choose to dine.)

No animal is quite as tall,
In height, he stands above us all.
A grown giraffe commands first place;
You’d need stilts to see his face.

* * *

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


What a great poem! I love this! Especially since I love giraffes.

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