Seashell

Once, I was a safehaven, a home.
Your enemies tried, unsuccessfully to harm you.
I stood strong,
sheilding your life within me.
Growing big, you left me behind.
Alone, I grew old.
I became worn and fragile.
I am a seashell
broken by rough water and everchanging tides.
My cream colored curves are veined with cracks
and swirls of dusty brown age.
My rough, sharp outer edge
is in contrast to the dull, smoothness
of my pearl-like inside.
I have remained here
with the red sand of Skinner's Pond
cushioning my fragile state.


Carolyn Chaisson