DNA is nothing more than a corkscrew
That permits entry into the bottled brew.
Twisting and turning as it may
Seeking like-kind in haploid way.
Lining up in associative linkage,
Halves become one parentage.
And then,
Proteins are liken unto a bit of spaghetti
Produced in a straight line from the factory,
When allowed to bend and twist
As in the caldron where they exist
They assume a final form,
Then with a bit of goo, like vermicelli
Stick together in a twisted form, ready.
Some are building blocks for structures
Unique from other proteins, for sure,
So it is in skin, hair and such
Something to see and if you like, touch,
But others are harboured inside are a mirid of tissues
Such as organs and bones to address other issues.
If that seems complicated, let us see
What happens to other proteins in this primordial sea
Some are enzymes, pure and simple, not by happen-chance,
With a mission to produce different molecules in abundance.
Then if that's not enough,
Some destroy that which comes before as such.
This bit of cellular chemistry on the fly.
Ensures the species will survive.
Epilogue
Such it is at a picnic
Where it all started, Oh so quick,
Beginning with a corkscrew
A bottle of wine and you,
Mysteries, magic, probability, chance
And Oh, Yes, romance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very, very clever - perhaps too clever for simple-minded me! ! !