Little shell how you hold tight a home away
from home, fitting snuggly as you slowly gradually
take upon the world one movement at a time,
never in a hurry to get yourself there.

You draw upon your surroundings, palette of
silver in the travels of here to there.
That little shell you collect yourself within, when
tiredness takes hold. Resting your tired self in bed.

Awoken and on the move you take on your journey,
the trails left yesterday. Behind they are, so forward
you do go with a casual look and off you go.
Little one a journey of a lifetime a garden you walk by.

"Daddy look there is a silver trail,

"That's a snails trail petal,

"It shiny daddy.

"Its so they don't get lost, like breadcrumbs in
the woods, so they know where they crawled before.

In the grass a journey still calmly slithers on,
This forest of grass taller than even the shell that
he carries upon his little back. Unseen by those above
but he worries not he just gradually slithers on.