Departing us with no farewell, trotting ’neath the starlight.

Scamp’ring off on padded foot, vanished like a sprite.

Leaving not a single clue for why he would take flight.

He seemed to be a gladsome beast, and unburdened by plight.

We fed him creamed corn, and he ate as much as he was able.

Each day we rinsed and combed his fur, his wool so soft and sable.

We took heed of his lessons and obeyed each lucid fable.

When he was maimed by drunken lads, we nursed him until stable.

He taught us to make medicines; our children he helped raise.

He taught us all which bugs to eat, which jungle gods to praise.

He built machines from coconuts that lessened our malaise.

Vast centuries of wisdom dwelt within his primate gaze.

No threats were made to harm him or to sell him to the zoo.

He bit the mayor but never did a punishment ensue.

We fed to him more eggs and corn than any ape could chew.

When thunder made him quake, we’d hug him close and softly coo.

Or did his mighty arms just yearn for different trees to climb?

Did he not appreciate it when we hosed off all his grime?

Were our children not polite enough, our corn bowls not sublime?

Did a coyote seize him from his bed? Was he cut down in his prime?

If only we had thanked him once before he went away.

To see his hairy face once more! For this, we sadly pray.

May God please guide this primate to return to us someday.

What more could we have done before the wise ape went astray?