A shell washed up on the shore
along the coast of a battered sea.
The shell's former inhabitant long
gone, moved on to the next, whatever
that may be.
Rough, grooved, cracked and worn
from the tossing and tumbling in the
Bleached, blasted and beaten on its
uncharted journey through storms and
The sands of the shore cradle the shell,
its destination found, if not reached.
Gentle and lulling the beach soothes.
A rising winter sun, dappling the shell,
highlighting its iridescent rainbow of
The waves lap gently at the edges, licking
the travel wounds, rolling the shell
To be found by a passer-by, to be put on
a shelf, to be presented to a lover as
a heartfelt token.
"This is for you," they'll say as it's
presented. A shy smile on eager lips.
"Thank you my sweet," followed with a
Significance re-made, re-named, through
struggle, through strife, through all
adversity, to be made brilliant by those
that can see.
The story of a shell, on a beach, by a