Never having written upon
(or been bitten by)
a Koala;
I feel that the time is now right
to write, somehow,
a bit about the cuddly type
of marsupial
that is more asleep than most
and only wakes at the hint of toast
with Vegemite spread –
and only then, if it doesn’t mean
getting out of bed (figuratively, of course).
And, yes, I know
that their diet is just the leaves of the Eucalyptus
(don’t try it)
and that they don’t really (normally) eat Vegemite;
but, what is a poet to do
when they just haven’t got a clue
about the habitats and habits of Koalas.
Best to make stuff up –
wouldn’t you?
