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. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |