Shell

A poem

Shell

I lifted its gentle curves and ridges,

separating it from sand

that slowly sifted

through my calloused palms.

Baptized clean in the salty surf,

I laid it to dry in the fiery sun.

The haunting shadow of beauty,

long faded and bleached

from treacherous storms

and tumbling waves.

The hollow echo of an empty tomb,

long devoid of the creature

that clung from within.

A symbolic reminder of what was.

An emblem of what could never be.

The tragic leftovers of a woman’s life,

shaped in the shell of me.

Photo by Crystal Chabot on Unsplash