Howard Simon Poem by John Shea

Howard Simon a young friend of mine
Walked the sands of of the Virgin Islands in search of prose

He arrived at acove in a horseshoe shaped beach
His hand was full of seashells

I said nice to meet you my friend and they dropped to the sand like dollars lost from his hand

Why? because we never know when someone we know may be encountered
And the treasurers at hand are just but a meer encounter of life as we live.

So howard come visit me in Jersey combing the beach and I'll dropp the syringes when thier out of reach...shea