Seashells Poem by Bella Magik

Her golden hair meets the sun, she's searching to be free
her memories, like the turning tide, have been washed away to sea

she rides the distant horses to what she's searching for
and she leaves her past behind like broken seashells on the shore

sunset always fills her should, her thoughts pure, like gold
grateful that, when down and out it was not her dreams she sold

You can see this golden beauty on the horses in the sky
as you dream, look past the morning sun and wave as she rides by