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Poem

There was once a Leatherback Turtle, 
Who locals named ‘Mama Mertle’,
She like all her relations was prehistoric,
Still seen today, how euphoric,
She laid many eggs in the sand,
Not in the sea, but on land,
110 per lay, 9 lays’ per season,
And for an obvious reason,
Hundreds of babies,
Some Amies, some Jamies,
Now all hatched, scurried,
Instinctively worried,
How many would make the sea!
First ever prize,
For these tiny guys,
Is reaching the ocean,
With as little commotion,
Inherently feel, should remain alive,
And somehow have to survive!
Predators amidst, like crabs and fish,
And birds swooping for this tasty dish,
But our mother Mertle,
Is an untroubled Turtle,
Swims away, not at all anxious!
Mertle, forgets them, and so tiny,
Defenceless, vulnerable, highly,
Exposed to vicious attack,
Impossible now to go back,
So, far less than a quarter
Ever reach the blue water,	
Afraid and on their own,
With no mother, all alone,
Take on the odds of survival,
Their unexpected, sparse arrival,
An absolute joy to their foe!

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