As I walked an early summer morn
I spied a turtle quite forlorn
At least I thought he looked that way
On second thought, I could not say
For there he sat upon a brick
Six inches high, six inches thick
‘Twas a border ‘round a mailbox
How did he climb up on those rocks
He simply sat and caused me wonder
What in his turtle mind he’d ponder
Thoughts of what he’d do today
Or just a place to think and pray
What does a turtle contemplate?
His world, his life, his turtle fate
Does he have dreams of turtle love
Or think about the stars above
And as I gazed at vacant eyes
I began to realize
That what to him must seem unclear
Is how he might get down from here