December 12, 2007
By Emily Goedecke, Spring, TX

Snails move slow.
You'd think they had nowhere to go.
They come out when it rains,
their routine always the same.
Slow as molasses,
they race to find who is the fastest.
It's too bad they can't get away.
Looks like it will be their last day.
For here comes a with salt.
Poor snails, its not theit fault.
Out shakes salt like acidic rain.
The snail's skin is burning in pain.
Foaming, fizzing till they're gone.
Their disappearance didn't take long.
All thats left is a pathetic snail...
But there are plenty of snails, all is well.

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