Sal the Snail's Simple Confession
When a shell cracks each piece made to crumble,
never expected was a snail so humble,
but Sal, never known to drown in sorrow,
said, "Fear not the end of tomorrow!"
Creatures rushed to Sal in a round-about,
each had noses, beaks and snouts,
to study, bewildered in such a strange lesson,
and hear Sal's last and only confession.
"I do confess," Sal said, "to many reveries,
in which, each of you I have dreamed,
but dare I not plan to exceed my own nature,
for 'tis known that snails are simple creatures.
Dear Albatross, how I've flown a hundred miles,
your wings, my guide over the Nile,
and with a kingdom of clouds to brush my slimy face,
I felt not a care in your perfect grace.
Oh Whale, my friend, I was a giant in your ocean mother,
swiftly, mastering the unknown water,
and your majestic tale to soar me through
the World's harmony painted in blue.
Proud Lion, sire, how I sank into your savannah with tender care,
and my tiny head lifted for the crown I did bear
with all the wisdom you hold in your paw, my king.
For once, I had legs to stand, and a mouth to sing.
It might be said by some kings and queens
that a life not lived is a life of dreams,
but I retire, now, without a single regret to pursue,
only hope that my dreams may live through you."
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