When upon a snail you come,
Meandering softly on the ground,
Stash it behind the white Lilly,
Tell no one what you’ve found.
Don’t point and scream, jump and shout,
Or stomp your foot on its head,
Just hide it behind the next white flower,
And scurry on ahead.
Don’t grab the salt and sprinkle it,
To watch it slowly die,
Just help it on its journey,
Or simply walk on by.
Don’t kick it to oblivion,
However tempting it may be,
Just ask yourself the question,
What if it was me?
For how would you like it,
If every time you walked around,
Some mean old giant came about
and picked you off the ground,
Would you rather he jump around,
And slowly crushed your head,
Or moved you gently through the air,
and put you behind a flower instead?