The Seashell

The Seashell


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.