Giraffes are Known to Dream

Giraffes are known to dream.

It’s their nature.

Why else, do you think,

They have those long features?

Well, Todd was also in the clouds,

His head as airy as morning dew.

He saw the above trees,

And he could almost kiss the moon.

Despite it all, his eyes lacked a glimmer.

His eyelids drooped

And he always looked thinner

Than a healthy giraffe should.

One day, Todd’s friend, full of concern,

Asked why he always sighed

And had no energy to burn.

Todd cried “Alas!” and told him thus:

“My dreams at night,

They make me more weary.

I wake in the morning and my head feels light,

My legs are tangled and sore.

I, daresay, it’s a most curious case.

The more I sleep, the more I tire.

When Dawn peeks out, she laughs to my face,

To see such a sad lump.

What can I do?

Be as a flamingo; one leg in water?

Is the river to make me anew?

By my spots, I must know!”

The fellow giraffe looked at his friend,

Seeing the creases of Todd’s fur

And his mark in the sand,

Suddenly, he knew.

“Todd, one of such a majestic,

and most wobbly neck,

Look at your sleeping circle for a tick.

Yours is different from ours.

We wake refreshed,

You bleary-eyed,

We make room lest

We sleep-sway our necks.

We make sand spiders, fat and proud.

You make a knot,

And your snores are not loud,

Nor make whinnies of joy and hope.

Soon, my friend, your exhaustion shall be fed,

As soon as you stop sleeping on your head!”

Author's Note: This was an assignment in my Creative Writing class. I adore this class! This was an assignment to write a ballad. While listening, I thought about how tired I was and how, no matter how much I napped, I was still tired. I decided that would be a horrible dilemma and--plot giraffes came to me?

. . . I really did enjoy writing this, though. I don't do a lot of poetry, but I like to tell stories--especially silly, formally-written stories. I was thinking of Geoffrey Chaucer when I wrote this.