The Turtle's Slow Race

In a grassy field, so green and wide, Beside a pond, where lily pads ride, Lived Turtle, Hare, and a Snail so small, Ready to race, and give it their all!

Slow but steady, that's Turtle's way, While Hare boasted, "I'll win today!" Snail just smiled, with a slimy gleam, A race for glory, a watery dream!

Hare shot off fast, a blur of white fur, Leaving Turtle behind, that's for sure! Snail, he crept on, with a patient slide, Across the grass, with nowhere to hide.

Hare stopped to nap, beneath a tall tree, "Turtle's so slow, he can't catch me!" He dreamt of carrots, and speedy delight, Oblivious to the fading sunlight.

Turtle crawled on, with shell shining bright, A steady rhythm, morning till night. He didn't look back, or listen to doubt, Just moved his feet, and inched on out.

Snail left a trail, a shimmering track, Determined to finish, and never look back. He stuck to the grass, avoiding the stone, Making slow progress, yet never alone.

Hare woke with a start, "The race! I forgot!" He zoomed past the pond, in a furious trot! But there at the finish, a ribbon so grand, Was Turtle, the victor, shell in the sand!

Snail cheered loudly, though still far behind, For Turtle's slow race, was one of a kind. Hare hung his head, with a sorrowful sigh, Slow and steady, had reached for the sky!

Turtle had won, not with speed but with grace, A true, steady winner of this grassy place. So remember this tale, whenever you roam, Slow and steady, can always reach home!