The Giraffe and the Zebras

Sun, 11/05/2017 - 13:52 -- EELoura

A herd of zebras was grazing on the African plain

They were a blur of black and white and from far looked the same

Each zebra was individual, but who could tell?

All had stripes and that... zebra smell

Then among their midst, what else would pass

But a single lone giraffe

 

Every zebra's head turned; they saw long legs and spots

They knew right away that this creature was not

One of them. All of the zebras were afraid.

What was this strange animal that just had to invade?

Those zebras looked up, their necks all craning

But it was no use; they were only straining

"What are YOU doing here?" one asked, unsure

But the giraffe just walked on without saying a word.

 

That Zebra cried out:

"Who does this thing think she is, walking among our herd?

She is not like us. I think her venture's absurd.

No black and white stripes; just big spots of brown

And she always walks on without much of a sound.

Her neck is so long; her head must touch the sky

Her legs are long too. All about her is high

We're all down on earth; her head's in the clouds

She eats from the trees, a long tongue reaching for leaves

I don't know about you others, but I think she's a freak!"

And all of the others quickly agreed.

 

They would jeer over everything about the giraffe.

Her spots just so gave them the right to laugh

And it annoyed them that she stayed yet did not talk back.

The zebras looked about, each identical face

Said, "We don't want this strange giraffe in our space."

 

But danger soon came: a lion prowled

Its predator's eyes stared the whole herd down

The zebras knew one of them would soon be dead meat

A zebra to a lion is an easy defeat

Then as the lion began to approach

Ready to come at a zebra's throat,

The giraffe swung her long neck and with her hard head fought the lion off.

As the lion retreated, the zebras stood in shock

They did not speak a word. They did not or breathe, blink, or laugh

They had been saved by their own outcast.

By the time they recovered, the giraffe was gone

They could see her silhouetted by the setting sun

 

A herd of zebras was grazing on the African plain

Life for them had gone back to being the same

Their lives had been saved by that one standing out from the crowd

Who did not make a sound and was not at all proud.

So why bother with stripes? Why all be the same

When that giraffe had much more to gain.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
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