Sam, the turtle, walked so slow,
His friends teased him and shouted, “Go!”
They wondered how he got anywhere,
And they joked about a race with a hare.
Sam’s enemies were even worse,
For they were always the very first
To block his path and boldly dare
While others, ahead, were setting a snare.
But Sam moved along his path with pride,
Forgiving his enemies for being snide,
And when he came upon that snare,
He walked around it without a care.
Sam had things to do and places to go,
He didn’t really mind being slow.
Making progress each wonderful day
Was more than his enemies could say.
Sam was young and smart for his age,
Using common sense like an old sage.
Looking at Sam you could tell in a glance
He knew what progress meant taking a chance.
Sam seldom pulled his neck in tight,
For turtles stop moving when they have no sight,
And Sam loved to venture wherever his eyes fell,
So he seldom drew his head inside his shell.
Sam was so happy, so thrilled to be free,
Sticking his neck out so he could see
The beauties of summer, the sorrows of fall,
Knowing this was better than not seeing at all.
Upon reaching another goal, Sam would turn to find
Docile friends and enemies unaware they were blind,
And hoping to restore their sight, Sam would shout,
“Turtles only make progress when they stick their necks out.”
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