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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1953426
by Harry
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Nature · #1953426
A free-verse poem about an old man strolling along the seashore.
The old man strolled along
the seashore reminiscing
of times now long gone
spent at this gleaming beach
with family and friends.
He could hear their laughter
in the breaking waves
that came washing ashore.

A shiny white, small pebble
half-buried in the sand
caught his eye. He retrieved
it from among the flowing debris
of broken shells and driftwood.
He turned it in his hand
examining it closely, feeling
its smooth, rounded surface.

Ah, you were once a shell
with pointed ends and ridges
running along your back,

the man thought.
When your inhabitant died
or was consumed as prey,
you became subject to the ebb
and flow of the tides, whereby
sand over time wore away
your ridges and protrusion,
rounding and smoothing
you into this present form.

How much alike are we,
you converted by the effects
of the sea into an altered form
and I converted by life
into a shell of my younger self.
My hair is gone; my eyesight
and hearing are diminished.
Arthritis cripples my joints.
My heart is failing me now.
I am sapped of strength
by years of living.
We are quite a pair,
you and I.

With that, the old man flung
the smooth shell remnant
far into the sea, saying aloud,
"The sea and life are not yet
finished with us, for we can
endure more before we're done."
The old man walked on along
the seashore, once again lost
in reminiscences of his younger
years when he was agile
and strong and happy.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1953426