A Tale Of A Snail Poem by Alaa Elgadi

A TALE OF A SNAIL
When I always glimpse the first rain drop,
I think of creeping not standing in the bus stop.
I pack all my house and go out,
It is the winter with no doubt.
I have taken a fresh shower,
And I sense my metaphysical power.
I have not carried an umbrella before,
I just wear my heavy shell and begin my tour.
Now I am passing by a glittering green wood,
And theory of relativity accommodates my mood.
Here I am crossing one of this university’s small avenues,
And my antennae have noticed the bus arrival with the hasty queues.
Now my last winter plight will begin and I have to creep fast,
Aha! That student seems poetic when he has passed.
He looked up to me and his footsteps were very neat,
Oh! Here are many young snails smashed by other savage feet.
Wow! I wish to creep on this gorgeous girl’s statuesque body,
And the specialists involve my wet skin in a new cream study.
This obese stupid student is walking towards me in haste,
I am afraid that my intelligence would be just a natural paste.
Under her muddy trainers in this rainy morning,
And no relatives would be in mourning.
Now that poet is writing about that snail’s plight,
For before its death, it has been a sorry sight.
It is a bohemian thought in the inspiring rain,
To lament a snail has appreciated his aesthetic brain.