LISTENING TO A SEASHELL (A poem by Blake Grantham)
Listen.
Listen.
That’s the roar
of the ocean’s shore.
Visualize
without your eyes
as seagulls fly above.
Sunset.
Sailboats.
Floating pass
on liquid glass.
By the bay
I feel the spray
In every way it’s real.
Moonlight.
Midnight.
Rolling waves,
hide flooded caves.
It seems to me
serenity
sets spirits free like mine.
Sea shells.
Sea shells.
On the beach
within my reach.
When you’re near
throughout the year,
I always hear the shore.
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