Donkeys Poem by Robert Melliard

Donkeys look like massive cuddly toys
but life's no game for them.
Almost everywhere they bear unfair loads
piled high on their sturdy frames.

In England they're adored by kids:
their smell is pungent, and riding one
is the pure stuff of childhood.

When well looked-after they warm the heart
and seem such enviable pets
that people dream of having gardens
big enough to keep them.

Their young, with slightly floppy ears,
are so damned photogenic
they ought to be in Vogue,
or at least in nature documentaries,
flaunting their tough, soft,
big-headed beauty,
vying with baby antelopes and gnus.