The turtles creep out of the sea
Ever so anxious not to be seen.
They shuffle up the sandy beach
Until the restaurants they reach
There the lobsters lay in wait,
Reflecting on their grizzly fate:
To be eaten by a head of state,
Off a silver-gilded plate.
The waiters leave to check the rice,
The turtles leap to the trays of ice,
In one fail swoop they seize their loot,
Then disappear to evade pursuit.
Freed from their plight,
The lobsters dash off in flight.
The waiters watch exasperated,
The turtles smile much elated.
Turning tail and running,
Ever so pleased with their cunning,
They race back to the ocean.
Causing quite a commotion.
By Lottie Butler, aged 4 and a 1/2
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