I feel compelled / for just a spell
to discuss the turtle’s dome;
His tidy cell / we parallel
in each and every biome.
I can’t oversell / the need for personnel
to scratch the itchy-foot syndrome;
to sell the material / to travel as well,
it’s built into our genome.
The turtle’s own cells / wherein he dwells
and I think I may be prone
to see the bluebells / and enjoy the smell,
to see life in polychrome.
Everything’s swell / he needs no hotel,
wherever he may roam;
Safe inside his shell / I hereby you tell,
everywhere at home.