Too big to call it yours,
Too small to compete.
Not the wisdom from your mouth,
Or the knowledge in your feet.
Never yours nor never mine.
Ours, together.
The stones that had sat, old.
The water's depth surround.
It wasn't fame that we did need,
Just organics on the ground.
See, we are all the one,
A family, you might say.
Sheltered from the sun,
but skies are never grey.
The Shelly Place is ours,
Perhaps, we are the shells.
Perhaps, we are not.
Time could only tell.
Home to the big glass house,
And the massive fish.
A location for a prayer,
Or to make a wish.
It is home.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
Too big to call it yours,
Too small to compete.
Not the wisdom from your mouth,
Or the knowledge in your feet.
Never yours nor never mine.
Ours, together.
The stones that had sat, old.
The water's depth surround.
It wasn't fame that we did need,
Just organics on the ground.
See, we are all the one,
A family, you might say.
Sheltered from the sun,
but skies are never grey.
The Shelly Place is ours,
Perhaps, we are the shells.
Perhaps, we are not.
Time could only tell.
Home to the big glass house,
And the massive fish.
A location for a prayer,
Or to make a wish.
It is home.
© All Rights Reserved Joanne Heraghty
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