In the pit of me

my own epitome,

within which lies

the wasted grit of me.

 

From pearl to sand

the sea made land,

washed up and used

a gift abused.

 

The clam prised wide,

hollow inside,

pearlescent sheen

of what had been.

 

The jagged edge

remains to tell,

that trusted pledge

can be but shell.

 

Audio and Video available at link below

https://wolfgarwords.com/2024/09/12/shell/