untitled
We all play god.
Turning people over in our hands
like shells.
Rinse them with water
to rid the debris.
Afraid of missing the most beautiful part
if we throw them back to the wave.
4 thoughts on "untitled"
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I like the movement and tone of this poem and the comparison of people to shells. It adds lightness and beauty.
Lovely expression of a truth about the human condition.
Strong visual and lovely words.
Truth wrapped in a gorgeous extended metaphor. Bravo!