Since my first memories I had a thing for shells,
you can call it a fascination.
I had never seen the sea
but I knew about shells.
My grandmother had a figurine made from mussel shells
I loved the pearly-blue shimmers on its inside.
There was a small bowl of shells
in the dark bathroom
but in candlelight
those shells glistened
as if caught in a moonbeam
and I wanted them all for myself.
I was in my teens when I first saw the sea
with shells rushing out of the waves
and I love those small things
more than words can say.
Everybody knew of my captivation with sea shells
and friends and family would bring me back some shells
on returning from their holidays at the sea side.
Today my house is filled with bowls full of shells
and to me they are precious.
The best ones are those that you pick up yourself
and they are a wonder
of God’s infinite array of splendour
and reflects the vastness of His diversity.