When Mother Earth was but a child
she played with all that was her own;
With sea and air and wind blown wild,
she fashioned precious shell and stone.
Sea shells, Earth crafted with the waves
to leave as gifts on sandy shores;
Her best she hid in concealed caves,
Her treasure troves and secret stores.
Her stones, Earth crafted with her soul,
and hid them from man's prying eyes;
Each etched with her own ancient scroll,
Each buried deep in Earth's disguise.
Then as she grew, Earth painted each,
with swirls of colours from her mind;
Shell and stones left on a beach,
the kind that children love to find.
Shells and Stones: a precious part
of Mother Earth's own work of heart.
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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