She washed ashore

This little brown leaf,

Laying in a pool of

Sad salt water,

Looking up at me

Like an abandoned child.

 

She must have heard a million tales

From lands unknown, from winds afar.

Singing to her,

Were the shells thrown out

By the princesses

Who had treasures everyday anew

Galore and galore.

 

She must have seen

Sailors and prisoners,

Witches and their crafts,

Lonely men in their towers and

Women recuperating from love,

Who cried and thought they ruled

Their own lairs.

Ah, mankind!

 

Crackling nights deceptive of dawn

Bright in the middle of

Nowhere,

Nothing to dine,

Only to drink

Brine and breathe in,

The vacuum air of

Another sunrise.

 

Plankton,

Sweet child of mine,

Of another era.

Another kingdom, another sphere,

Who wrung  you

Off the green I hoped you were once,

Was it the harsh cold waters of

God’s own making?

Or dry currents that free will

Desired when smitten by

Glory?

 

I hope you make my red toe nails and

Hobbit feet

Your refuge.

Maybe I could give you a name

And you could tell me all your dreams,

And other forgotten stories of

Fame.

 

I will never let you out

Into the sea,

That mass of unknown

Again.

You frail and fragile body

With no fragments known to

Fate.