It’s just a shell.
Small but perfect,
Picked up on the beach that day.
Its sits beside the little stone you found,
Children hand in hand
Along a winter shore.
It’s just a shell.
Nothing very special
There were hundreds of them
Washed up on the beach that way
Strewn across the sand
When the tide came.
It’s just a shell
A hollow thing
And empty, just a memory
Of a gifted day
Beside the waves.
I have it still.
It’s just a shell.
It sits within my hand
And I hear laughter
Dancing in the windswept dunes
And smile through tears
And face the day…
Just a shell.
*
From Life Lines: Poems from a Reflection
Available via Amazon
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Just a shell yet so much more.
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Indeed…
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Beautiful lines….so evocative
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Thank you, Goutam.
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog.
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❤
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So, beautifully done. Who’d a thought a simple empty shell could create such a lovely poem.
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Are memories not just ’empty shells’?
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So many memories flood back with a tiny object.💜
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It doesn’t tkae much…
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No not at all 💜
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I have such a shell, more precious than diamonds…
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It is the memories they hold that matter so much.
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The smallest of things can be so significant for us, it’s so true. I have a few pieces of twig that I gathered from the ground beneath the glorious sycamore tree at the ‘sycamore gap’ on Hadrian’s Wall, and they also help me relive better times and wonderful memories. Being able to hold a few pieces of the tree has given me comfort this year as we haven’t been able to visit Northumberland as planned. I’m sure they’ll keep me going ’til next year. Similarly, my pieces of fallen masonry from my favourite castles have given me a tangible connection to my beloved buildings. These little things are to be cherished. 🙂
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I have a similar collection, including the northern heather I have missed seeing in full flower for the past two years…and not seen at all this year. These things don’t really matter… they are just ‘things’… but they are the key to the memories and emotions that do matter.
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Lovely poem Sue.
I have many such shells, and as some are so tiny, they are all in their own special dish on the knick knack shelf
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Mine are usally feathers added to the basket 😉
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I took a shell down to my Mum shortly before she was taken into hospital. We spent ages trying to find another for us and struck lucky.
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That’s lovely, Di.
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I hope she saw it as she was in the care home then and wasn’t well, so spent most of my visit asleep. I did speak to her a few times after that though.
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I think such gifts of love are always felt, even if they are not seen.
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I hope so.
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So very poignant, Sue.
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Little things, eh?
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So beautiful!
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Thank you.
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I remember this poem from the book, Sue. So beautiful. ❤
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Thank you, Diana. ❤
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Beautiful, Sue… ❤
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Thankyou, Bette ❤
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I used to collect shells. I had a lot of them when I finally passed them all back to the beach from which I took them. I couldn’t throw them away, though I did keep one — a big abalone shell which I used for burning whilst cleansing evil spirits.
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We only ever borrow things from Nature… it all goes back to her in the end 🙂
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Like driftwood and rocks and other such treasures, they’re never ‘just’ the physical. 🙂
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Even memories are empty shells, until we give them our hearts 🙂
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