Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Shells on the Shore


When I hold you to my ear
There is no shush of the sea,
the wind and the waves.
Instead I hear the haunting call
of wild geese in flight.
Delight
shivers over my skin
and the clamour echoes,
discordant.
Shells on the shore
telling tales.
Some are beautiful and bright.
Some less so.

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