I’m just a seashell.
From me you shall
not hear ….
well, either prophecies or truths.
Though, listen to my voice. It’s subtle, but it’s clear.
And if you hold me close against the ear,
The thunderous beat and passion of the sea,
Can be distinguished from the ramblings of the youth.
I am nothing but a seashell
That moves, not on itself,
But being pulled ashore by some unknown strings,
and while it’s moving, it squeamishingly sings;
Leaving a fleeting fragrance, faint as a tear indiscreetly shed
About those great summer days long dead.
She sells seashells...
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123032804432
Свидетельство о публикации №123032804432
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