They rushed out of the water and sat in the sand,
covered with years, maybe decades of life.
Once used, now picked up…
they really don’t know the difference.
If you hold them to your ear you can hear the ocean
or the cry of emptiness or laments of love.
That wasn’t I you met with the rough edges;
that wasn’t you I slammed against and couldn’t break.
on that imaginary beach we never visited
under warm waters we never touched.
That wasn’t I pulling away against the current;
that wasn’t you causing me hurt.
It was them, now laying in the sand
dormant and clueless,
We never got to meet in that blissful silence;
or maybe we did, it’s hard to know.
You would have liked me.
Those shells… are certainly beautiful,
but one wasn’t you
and the other wasn’t I.
By tuttysan © 2011
Shells, a poem. Photo: Delwood Beach, Manly – Australia.