Early morning, city street,
Glancing down around my feet,
There, as if upon a trail,
Sat a tiny little snail.
How he got there, I don’t know;
Snails and cities just don’t go.
Still, somehow, he made his crawl
Smack inside an urban sprawl.
Though I thought to move him to
A safer place to see him through,
I opted not to interfere
With fate, which must have brought him here.
Either he’ll survive or not;
I believe he has a shot,
Though New Yorkers, I’ll admit,
Don’t like creatures slow as _ _ it!
for Andrea's "Show Me the Funny - Part 2" Contest