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Shells

Rating: 2.9

Reaching down arm-deep into bright water
I gathered on white sand under waves
Shells, drifted up on beaches where I alone
Inhabit a finite world of years and days.
I reached my arm down a myriad years
To gather treasure from the yester-milliennial sea-floor,
Held in my fingers forms shaped on the day of creation.

Building their beauty in three dimensions
Over which the world recedes away from us,

And in the fourth, that takes away ourselves
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
John Pendrey 13 September 2016

Sometimes poems seem 'difficult' but she explains. Harmonious shells that whisper forever in our ears, The world that you inhabit has not yet been created.

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