I made my home in a discarded sea shell
it smelt of the sea, salty
and I could hear the constant tide
the reminder that life is turning on a dime
and time is forever on the march
the previous tenant had made the shell shiny and smooth
kicked off their home and ended up on some ones plate
a seafood platter maybe for a crab or a big mouthed fish
anyway its mine now and life goes on
I live next the shore, a stones throw away
my ears full of the sea and salt on my tongue.