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.
