The Snail On the Stairs in the Rain

Walking up the stairs in the rain
In noisy clomping heels after a few glasses of wine
I almost crush your world beneath my feet!
Like dreams, which should never be trodden upon according to my beliefs.
I stop, bend over and pick you up
With my thumb and index fingers
Feeling the sturdy muddy dryness on your shell
And airlift you, informing you that "I'm just saving you from getting crushed!"
Before removing you to the side.
It's probably only my imagination, but I feel your heavy disappointment after having been so obtrusively removed
From your fixed journey and direct course.
I then question if it is just me,
Who couldn't bear the imagined pain of you being squelched to death
By a careless passer-by
when perhaps you would have been very happy to have
Continued going on your way
And dying nonetheless. Possibly.
Because after all
You would have been simply doing what you wanted
And that is the kind of happiness
No passer-by should ever assume they know more about
Than you.