Ivory white, and quite symmetrical,
It oozes artistry.
Hardened by time and water's frenetic
Movement, this shell imparts
It's own magnetic pull on my poet's mind.
Bright bold stripes adorn it.
Holed now, minutely, by another kind
Of life, it still fits
My idea of perfect shape for usage.
Up from the watery deep,
I will keep this former house of beauty.
It's unused silent harvest I will reap.
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Comments about this poem (The Shell. by Fay Slimm )
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