Walking along a dark deserted path
I stop to pick up a beautiful black seashell
Strange
Not because it's black
It's strange because I am hours
from the seashore
The path is in the middle of the forest
Surrounded by tall trees
And dead leaves
Deserted
This time of year
I wonder how the shell came to be here
Maybe someone knew
That I would walk this path today
Maybe
They knew that I needed IT.
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