The Oyster

Sometimes I think everyone feels this way. . .


The Oyster

There once was an oyster
Whose story I'll tell,
Who found that some sand
Had worked under his shell.
Just one little grain
But it gave him a pain,
For Oysters have feelings that are very plain.
Now did he berate
This working of fate,
That left him in such a deplorable state?
Did he curse the government,
Call for an election,
And say that the sea
Should have some protection?
No! He said to himself
As he sat on the shelf, "Since I cannot remove it,
I think I'll improve it."
Well, years passed by,
As years always do,
Till he came to his destiny,
Oyster stew!
But the small grain of sand
That bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.
Now this tale has moral,
For isn't it grand,
What an oyster can do
With a small grain of sand?
And what couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With all of the things
That get under our skin?

Author Unknown