I have a bag of seashells
Collected from acres of sand
Sums up my walk's treasure
At my abode, an idle land
Counting waves that meet
The bottom of my fanning toes
Their crests smother my face
While I pause three breaths
The love of the early sun
Breathes out new beginnings
Hugs gently my salty skin
Perks up my solemn heart
When one breaths even, conscientiously, one would see even the most trivial thing differently, to what average does. Only a sharp enough mind has this capability and only a poet can share it with the rest heartily and passionately. Lot to read between lines and I like this style. Thank you Melanie for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Melanie, such a heartwarming wonderful poem....10++++
Thank you for that comment Mr. Asuncion.