Alice and the Baby Hippo
(A whimsical poem in rhyme)
One dainty day beneath the sun,
Young Alice thought, “This could be fun!”
She saw a hippo, small and round,
Just waddling gently on the ground.
Its skin was grey, its tail went flip,
It wriggled with a wobbly skip.
Its ears were tiny, pink and proud—
It snorted once and drew a crowd.
“A mount!” cried Alice. “Oh, how grand!
I’ll ride across this soggy land!
No horse or donkey, goat or yak—
I’ve found a hippo for my back!”
She climbed atop its chubby rear,
The hippo blinked, then twitched an ear.
It gave a squeal, then took a dash—
And Alice flew off with a splash!
She landed in a muddy bog,
Just shy of hitting a startled frog.
Her hair was filled with weeds and goo—
Her sock was gone, her shoe was too.
The hippo, shocked by all the fuss,
Just blinked and snorted, “Don’t blame us!
We’re not for riding, no, not yet—
We’re more like mobile lumps of wet.”
Alice laughed, then bowed with grace,
Mud dripping gently down her face.
“Well thank you, friend,” she said, and grinned,
“As far as rides go—you were…wind!”
And off she skipped with squelchy feet,
Through meadows green and puddles sweet.
Behind, the hippo gave a sigh,
Then belly-flopped with glee nearby.
So if you spy a hippo small,
Be sure you ask, before you fall.
For though they’re cute and seem just right—
They’re not the steed for your next flight!
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 