The Seashell

November 3, 2011
By , Westfield, IN
Tumbling through the water,
wet fingers pull me back

and forth
Moving with the flow

of the ocean


rolling and rolling
I'm meditating quietly
My senses are dulled

The days run together

as I'm carried every which way
And I sigh, content

The tumbling quickens

I spin round and round

Have I reached my destination?

The water washes up

over the sand,
then pulls back

without me
Lodged in the warm,

sunbaked sand,
I lay drying

alone, waiting
for something to happen

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