THE GIBO
Roots catching rain,As it bounces off the forest floor.
As though its taken flight;
Rehydrating every flowering leaf,
In a iridescent pool of light.
The gibo tightly wrapped around,
A nesting dromedary bee.
Dreaming of the idle-dyllic ant,
It eats when he stops for tea.
The gibo is neither a giraffe or a gibbon,
it lives near a very tall tree.
It ties it's glasses on with a ribbon,
It's very short sighted you see.
If you ever run into a gibo;
Never ask him why he goes out at night.
Bow down Saying, "How do you do".
Anything else isn't polite.
He's very musically minded,
Dining on Mozart and Faust.
In daylight he's physically blinded,
He's hearings as sharp as a mouse.
He once sang a whimsical sonnet,
Using the cavicorn on his head.
It's hidden under his bonnet,
Anonamouse wrote it they said.
If someday you've had your fill,
During the the daylight hours.
You may spot one standing still,
Hiding behind a flower,
Drinking from a daffodil.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 210 times
Written on 2021-09-24 at 09:47
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