That first morning,
She put on her blue linen dress,
The one with the big pockets,
And she walked,
Picking up shells.

Occasionally, glancing back
To the hotel
Where the brand new husband
She did not love
Slept snoring.

She promised herself,
When her pockets were full,
She’d return.
And she did.

Each day,
She walked.
Each day,
She picked up fewer shells
Along the way,
Giving herself permission
To cover more sand,
Leaving the hotel and husband,
Further in the distance.

On the final day
Of her honeymoon, 
She did not pocket
A single carapace.
She simply walked.
Until the hotel and husband
Were out of sight,
Out of mind,
Out of heart.

She walked,
Until the island ended.
And kept walking,
Down the shore,
Past the waves,
And straight into the ocean.