Rolling with the waves

We’re two weights
washed up from humanity’s sea,
glass smoothed
to more easily roll within
the whim of these unbidden tides.

Two glass formed spirals,
seen in the decor of shells,
pearlescent
among the forgotten,
seen in the sways of the sea’s weed,
companions to dropped anchors.

The curiosity of starfish
is simply a possession of new spirit
when the beach is all but dry,
and when we resurface
we clutch to all that is
shown alive there.

We’re just trying to secure in place
our castaway lives,
the swirls seen inside out,
as the waves wash us further ashore.

It’s become an understanding,
a familiarity of ocean colour
and rebuilt sand forms
that believe in time and again,
far more than the destruction
of  tide, or the stings
from the cuts of sharks.

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