Writings in the Sand

Snails are everywhere they say
though I never saw one, till I moved away
Away is a somewhere, though it closer be
to the ocean, what some might call the sea
It was there The Boy found a snail on the siding
Was it slithering up? perhaps downward sliding?
I said “I think it is just enjoying the view”
“Whatever”, The Boy said, and launched a rescue
It didn't matter that it was slimy and wet
The Boy vowed it would make a fine pet
Until, while in The Boy’s hand it did linger
And left a trail of poop on his finger.