“What If?” Friend, Sept. 1989, 18
I think that I shall be a giraffe
And be taller than the door.
But with the longest neck around,
What if my throat gets sore?
Maybe I’ll be a crocodile
And lie out in the sun.
But what if I have to brush my teeth?
There’d be no time for fun!
Perhaps I’ll be a centipede
And go marching down the street.
But what if I have to lace the shoes
Of so many pairs of feet?
Of all the things in all the world,
Can you guess what I’d most like to be?
A child pretending all these things—
In other words, just me!