The Lucky One
I wrote you of a seashell shining
On a beach of golden sand;
Held the morning light so tightly
In my gnarled and aged hand.
Kissed the sky my greeting,
With lips in prayer pursed
Brushed the breeze in which I am,
So lovingly immersed
Life teases me with silent sound,
Meant for listened ear;
Sad but true, that only those
In depths of love will hear.
And I was chosen, as the lucky one.
For I still hear the whispered kiss
Of every morning’s sun.
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