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The Seashell

In by Lara on August 4, 2010 at 12:45 pm

A single seashell whistled
by the sea’s salty shore,
hoping someday, its whistle
would turn into a roar.
It waited there,
upon the sandy beach
Wedged between a plastic sandbucket
and a moldy peach.
It yearned for younger days
when children would play,
come with their toys,
until night they would stay.
And they would pick up the shell,
use it to scoop sand and make sculpures,
But no more children play,
and no one left to culture.
So the seashell just whistles,
Whistles high and low,
Until the tide comes back in,
to whisk it away in its flow.


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