Snail

Though he lived a great life 

On a posh pile of bricks

There once was a snail 

In a bit of a fix

The problem he bore 

Made him shudder and twitch

As it’s hard without hands 

To scratch your foot’s itch

With one foot not two

The itch grew and grew

There seemed no way to relieve it

He had searched high and wide 

Many ways he had tried

He was beat 

But just wouldn’t believe it

He had had but one goal

To un-itch his sole

To be free from his life’s irritation

When he’d searched his last hill 

Though strong was his will

He retired to his shell in frustration

As he curled up inside 

He longed to just glide

But the itch had become quite a pain

Then breathing in fast 

With a squeeze and a blast screamed out

I am going insane!

Just then at the yell

As he cried in his shell 

Strong winds blew him off that hill top

He bounced and he rolled

Down and down so I’m told

His fall, so he thought, would not stop

For a minute just then

Though it felt more like ten

The snail was weightless in air

He plucked up some courage

And made way through his dunnage 

To see what and why, how and where?

He was high above ground 

And a whistling sound 

Whipped  around as he soared like an eagle

How on earth could he fly? 

Looking up revealed why

Holding him was a hungry eyed seagull

Up and up went the bird

Though it’s strange, not unheard

That the air put the snail’s foot at ease

He’d be dinner for sure

But the wind held his cure

So he unfurled his foot in the breeze

He kept his eyes closed

Captive, exposed

And expected himself to be eaten

The next moment right there

With his foot washed in air

The itch had been finally beaten

So he smiled and stretched out

Let his foot flap about

Then his tail licked against the bird’s toe

Ewww screeched the bird

Though it’s strange, not unheard

The squeamish seagull let him go

He was falling again

And he wondered just when

It would end but he’d lost all his fear

For his problem was gone

And it couldn’t take long 

To pass through the earth’s atmosphere 

When he came back to earth

He’d discovered life’s worth

For he wasn’t one hundred percent

See, the snail’s shell had shattered

Yet none of this mattered

As he sought out a nice airy tent

He lives happier now

In a field with a cow 

His posh pile and shell long forgotten

When an itch finds his sole he just climbs a tent pole

And cools himself down top to bottom