I found a shell upon the shore,

With no one in it anymore;

No trace of former living creature;

Nor a glimpse of former features.

Smooth, yet hard, by touch--my fingers;

No warmth inside, then, ever lingers.

Age determined by external changes,

As youth succumbed to rearranges.

Perhaps kind words, evoked in passing,

Were trusted to such winds, not lasting;

And those whose tears so selfish keep;

Returned to safe, in life, their deep.

Such understand the terms left here;

Where memories replace the fear;

As shells embrace the timed decay;

And only love won’t wash away.

Nor torrid churning, daily tides;

Are weak to harm such soft insides;

Scars disfigure the external shell;

I would contend this, just as well.

Return you now, from my cupped hand;

To take your place among the sand;

Trust, that you are finally free;

As all of us--will come to be.

Then waves did reach with nurt’ring arms;

To draw this shell from any harm;

Returning to such times of mirth—

To home, to peace, await rebirth.