The Women and the Shell

January 19, 2012
As the woman walks down the beach,
She reaches down,
Feeling the rough soft sand and the cool crystal water
She reminisces about her husband.
The love they shared.
She remembers all about the shell,
The one they found again a year before he passed away.
The shell of love, as they called it so many years ago.

The woman thinks about how the years have changed her,
Her heart is broken,
And her face has aged,
Her once beautiful young face is not as young as it once was.
The woman’s husband however,
Never saw her aging day by day.
Oh how the woman missed him so.
As well as the love they shared.

The woman’s walk continued for an hour.
She comes to the place where they buried it.
As the woman digs, her bones are no longer popping,
Now they’re like new, digging until she finds the shell of love.
She picks it up as it smiles at her,
Holding all the memories of the love they had,
In the soft hardness of its shell.

She smiles and turns it in her hand.
She feels the rough softness, the creamy feeling of it,
Along with the light heaviness of the memories.
She thinks how the years have pasted.

The woman ventures to his grave.
The headstone standing,
Like a soldier waiting to be seen.
She collapses down next to the headstone.
As she places her hand on the cool, black, granite surface.

The woman’s lonely tears trail down her face.
Oh how she missed him and their love,
But her love for him never faded.
She places the shell under the headstone and leaves,
Her head held high, strong like she once was.
Her husband looks down from above and smiles.

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