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
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What a great poem! I love this! Especially since I love giraffes.
Posted by: Vicki Jones | Friday, 23 October 2015 at 12:27 PM