Papa Penguin


If I were a papa penguin,

I’d gently take my egg.

I’d hold it on my feet,

And keep it very warm.

I’d huddle with other papas,

As we incubate our eggs,

Each trying not to drop it,

And each with a common goal.

When the baby hatches,

I’d look down at my chick

With love in my eyes.

“Are you my papa?” she’d say.

“Yes,” I’d tell her.  “And look, there’s your mom!”

When mama comes home,

I would go off,

To find food for my family.

But I’d always come back

To see my chick

As she grows and shines

Like the Antarctic sun.


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