The Black Giraffe.

Do you notice me when I walk your way?

I walked right by you the other day. 

There you were, like you always are,

Splatted dark against the floor. 

How long have you been there? 

How long will you stay? 

I wonder these things as I pass your way. 

Surely you know you'll be here a while, 

Surly you'll be here longer than I. 

My days are final. 

I know they have number, 

but those numbers give me life. 

What's your life like laying there? 

Are your days final? 

Do they have number? 

Like a friend you greet me everyday, 

but how many others see you this way? 

I doubt they notice or even care,

that a black giraffe is laying right there. 

Right where? Right where?

Here, right here. 

You lay right there and you never move. 

Why don't you move? Why are you here? 

Run away.