Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

On an early morning walk along the shore
I pondered thoughts about the ocean floor
What treasures are buried beneath its sands
Amid corals, anemones, orange sea fans
I wanted a key to unlock the seabed's door 

On the crest of a wave, what had been carried
bobbled and lobbed, back and forth parried
from shore and blown across windswept seas
Miles traveled by storms or a tropical breeze
on ocean currents, their journey never tarried

In a shallow tidal pool, a conch was stranded
A gift from Poseidon's hand, I'd been handed
I held the shell to my ear and then listened
awed by the sound while the sun glistened
Waves crested until on the beach they landed

With perfect rhythmic cadence they swelled
on a high tide until its last ripples were felled
Another always followed, close upon its wake
constantly flowing as if it had a thirst to slake
quenched by rushing ashore as if compelled

Buoyantly, bottles drift on the crest of a wave
Directed by the whims of tides, as if a slave
No ebbing waters have ever ferried one to me
I ponder how many notes drowned in the sea,
bottles speared by Neptune. Forsooth, a knave!

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