My shell is my home
but without table and chairs
Just a cool empty space
in which to lay my head
Do I get pleasure from being
afloat in the salty sea?
Do I gleefully scoff as I escape
the trawler man’s nets?
Do I find comfort in clinging
steadfastly to the rocks?
Do I get a thrill from being the first
in the race to reach the shore?
Do I feel sorrow or sadness
at the end of my life?
No, I feel deep joy at the
squeal of delight
Of a girl in a pink summers dress
as she picks up the shell
Off the beach, from where
I left it behind