Sea shells
Walking down the beach
I saw a sea shell
peeking out of the sand.
It reminded me of you
and all the fun times we had.
Because I was mad you had died,
I picked up the shell
and angrily threw it into the sea.
I kept walking.
Each shell I saw I picked up
and threw back into the ocean.
I threw them hard and with passion;
the passion of grief and sorrow;
the passion of longing.
Your death leaves no room for the
beauty of a sea shell.
Eventually there was no more beach
and no more sea shells
but I didn't feel better.
I walked back down the beach
kicking the sand,
wanting those sea shells back.
If I could hold them once more,
maybe it would be like holding you once more.
Walking down the beach
I saw a sea shell
peeking out of the sand.
It reminded me of you
and all the fun times we had.
Because I was mad you had died,
I picked up the shell
and angrily threw it into the sea.
I kept walking.
Each shell I saw I picked up
and threw back into the ocean.
I threw them hard and with passion;
the passion of grief and sorrow;
the passion of longing.
Your death leaves no room for the
beauty of a sea shell.
Eventually there was no more beach
and no more sea shells
but I didn't feel better.
I walked back down the beach
kicking the sand,
wanting those sea shells back.
If I could hold them once more,
maybe it would be like holding you once more.