Why are we drawn here to see two quiet lovers
holding hands on this beach at glorious sunset,
as a shimmering memory surfaces with the tide?
She was that shell he once gathered and fondled,
hands warming coldness, color returning again;
this small shell shimmering in his sailor hands.

A shell that had once been two, now hardwashed
against grit and waves, strong hand lifting her,
a vision of his smile at finding a sea treasure.
His eyes were the new tidepools she gazed into.
He warmed her with tender caresses, sang to her.
Praised her for coming to this perfect location.

Took her from this spot to share time with him.
On a tether around his neck, what harm could a
shell come to with this happy man of the ocean?
Wore her, gazed on her form, touched her often.
Sang to this shell as he soon raised his sails.
Touched her when lonely, told her his dreams.

This shell, she listened and dreamed her dreams.
In loneliness, he danced with her, sang to her.
Closed his eyes, hugged that shell and wished.
He hoped his greatest fantasies might come true
more than his first imaginings and love desires.
Longings, he had all he could stand, he dreamed.

He dreamed her singing, as he had so often sung.
She dreamed of also holding him, as he held her.
He kissed this shell, coldness warm with a touch.
The peach color of a shell possession now flesh,
as she became his dream, him now enfolding her
as protective shell forever, together once again.

2002 Rennie Lorca

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