ebb and flow goes
the salty, blue sea,
how many seashells has
it robbed from thee?
may they be conch filled
with your childhood dreams,
or the prayers of your
aged-mind’s streams,
may they be shell-hearts
you’ve always long to hold,
too sharp to touch,
too tough to mold,
or perhaps a silent wish
your tongue not dared say,
with dark whispers saying
“it’s far as night and day”.
but ebb and flow goes
the salty, blue sea,
the waves will form and
foam to surprise thee.
in this life, i’ve learned,
what’s meant to be yours
will always find its way back
to your waiting, wheat shores.
sit by the sand,
sip some warm tea,
remember. this waiting
will shape who you’ll be.
—
