A washed up shellA Poem by Picture of PoetryA washed up shell is more it what it seems...A windy mourning, upon nthe sunrise. A simple walk, upon a barren beach. I glance down at the sand for a meek item has caught ymeye. Nothing more than a simple washed up shell. But not an ordinary shell. No, my friend. This shell is different. For this shell has a faint glow from inside of it. Inside this shell thrives a life. A life seeking something, but what? A life with a meaning, but what meaning could that be? I don't know. Do you? I pick it up, and hold it with a frail grasp. I feel as though I am holding the hand of God. I feel this way only because to hold any form of life in my hands gives me a feeling unlike any other. A feeling that blooms into a small flower and bursts into a rouring fire. A washed up shell, now sits in my hand just waiting to see what is going to happen. Waiting to see the future. I place it onto the cold wet sand, for now it is my turn to wait and see what will happen, to wait and see the furture. It begins to crawl, making its journey somehwere, anywhere, just like me!
© 2008 Picture of PoetryAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on July 3, 2008 AuthorPicture of PoetryAtlanta,, GAAboutMy name is Jessica, but my friends call me Jess. I'm ___ years old. I love writing and reading as much poetry and famous literature as possible during my spare time. Basically, all day, every day is.. more..Writing
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