The Seashell
by
gael b. hogan
Gritty mist fills my lungs
Depositing dew on his face.
Footprints follow us
Disappearing slowly into gray.
Waves reaching out like fingers grasping hold,
But sliding back empty-handed
Leaving behind watery jewels
Smoothed by adversity
Beaten down and broken by life.
He reaches down and rescues one,
Sparkling in the light,
Reflecting shades of green and gold,
Reflecting his eyes and well-worn hands--
Both fragile pieces of sculpture
Yet strong for they have survived.
For a moment in time man and sea connect,
Understanding—respecting—what life has delivered.
Then in a moment of recognition
He reaches out to me,
And in my hand
He places his token—
And his love.
