Kenya’s Emerald Elephant

His beautiful, emerald trunk,
Held happily in the air,
There was no other elephant,
That was any more beautiful or fair.

To me he holds many a memory,
His trunk is a loveable ink jet,
Memories of Kenya’s ghostly gums,
Swirl around in both his trunk and the distant sunset.

Like a little spotted lady bug,
He has a little white spot,
On the tiny tip of his trunk,
So inconsequential and miniscule, yet everyone loves him a lot

In his beautiful, hand-carved face,
I see the lovely ostrich baby,
Only a very small possibility,
There is a tiny chance, only maybe.

Kenya’s Emerald Elephant