Shells or Hearts

June 8, 2011
Never the same, to be just alike.
Floating through the ripples, cracks form down the sides.
Tossed in the sand, by the rush of the waves.
You can’t pick them up, before the current takes them away.
Washed tides decay them, each time they’re washed in.
Never too late to pick up, just more damaged in the end.

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