Make It to Mama

Once upon a time,

Deep in a balmy rainforest,

A baby sloth clung to its father.

“Don’t dawdle long,”

said the sloth dad.

“You need to start now,

to make it to Mama.”

Off the baby sloth went,

Diligent in the swing

and steady in his pace.

But it didn’t take long

for his speed to slow,

his arms to settle, 

and his eyes to shutter down.

Frightened was the baby,

as he felt a finger on his back.

“Wakie wakie!”

Yelled a marmoset,

plumed face peering at the sloth.

“You’d better keep going,

if you want to make it to Mama!”

So off the baby sloth went,

Careful in the swing

and persistent in his pace.

But it didn’t take long

for his speed to slacken,

his arms to sink, 

and his eyes to drift shut.

Awake once again,

when a smooth bill prodded him;

“Don’t fall asleep now,”

the toucan rattled,

brazen beak agape.

“Now is no good,

if you want to make it to Mama.

And off the baby sloth went,

Focused in the swing

and firm in his pace.

But it didn’t take long

for his speed to hitch,

his arms to drop, 

and his eyes to fall heavy.

Roused again,

jolted from a squeeze.

“Don’t ssssleep here,”

hissed a tree boa,

scales displayed a bright emerald.

“Don’t ssssleep,

If you want to make it to Mama.”

Thus the baby sloth went,

Earnest in the swing

and consistent in his pace.

But it didn’t take long

for his speed to drag,

his arms to loosen, 

and his eyes to gently close.

Woken once more,

tickled from whiskers.

“If you have come this far,”

the ocelot purred,

stiff coat dotted with color.

“Then you must keep going,

If you want to make it to Mama.”

And so the baby sloth went,

Wary in the swing

and slowing in his pace.

But it didn’t take long

for his speed to stall,

his arms to slump, 

and his eyes to shut one more time.

Exhausted was the baby,

rustled awake by claw.

But the sloth was no longer interested,

and continued his sleepy dreams.

“Look at you,”

The voice chimed.

“You made it to Mama!”