The snail dons her shell
Like a fur coat,
Slowly preening and pacing her way along the runway,
Confident of her calcareous surroundings.
She happens upon a new shell,
Its whorls shining
And she falls - head over heels -
Mantle over tail.
With time and patience,
As she learns to trust,
The snail leaves the comfort of home to try something new;
She exposes the subconscious beneath her covering.
But when fully exposed -
Like a slug on a sidewalk -
The new shell moves on;
There was no room for two.
And here I sit
Exposed to the world,
Out of my shell
With no place to hide,
Feeling a little sluggish.
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