In a hand,
or two
Pocketing shells
to hear the ocean,
somewhere else

I lie awake
Can't sleep, @ night
Wondering how
that could be?

So I returned the shells
to the ocean,
to hear it again

I trusted in their placement,
that they were right where
they should be
And collapsed in weeping
When the answer arrived
That I was meant to be here too

I never made the return drive
home
because home was right here
I trusted in their placement
And in return, found mine

And the last line has yet to be written