Shell of day

Shell of day sings hollow now,
bright guest slipped away,
but time blows softly at the edge-
makes its mournful call.

Listening now ear-cocked and keen,
for sea-kissed sounds instead,
the whispering stopped –
no answer there, just echoes, hollow calls.

And day is dropped at water’s edge-
eternal tide’s new toy.

86

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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