Words long lay dormant

And out of reach,

Like shells washed up

On a barren shore

They gave the turbulen expanse

A settled beauty,

But the waves left

Nothing free.


And I, a castaway

In my own mind,

Staggered onto sand and

Found them under my feet.

I discovered those words

To be beautiful



And fragile as I picked them,

But unyielding to me.


Yet I gathered what I could in haste

And held them close...

(Madness, for I had not even a place to sleep)

But on I went

Plucking those words

And saving them from the sea.





I really love the imagery. The picture of words represented by shells upon a shoreline is beautiful and the way you depicted it was fantastic.

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