Conch and String

Love. A baby rests knowing that, by holding the string inside, the shell won't release the spindell to fall to the floor. And that is an existential thought that keeps us asleep at night.

On a table sat
a petite seashell that
never rolled away
and began to shine today.

Around a spindel wrapped,
a humble thread that
never broke or frayed
began a quest today.

From the shelf it fell
to the small seashell,
becoming the cradle-
not falling from the table.

The two of them were found
by a small child's astound,
and inside the two intwined,
the string was sent inside.

With the string inside the shell,
a soul was found as well-
within the small confines,
the baby sleeps this time.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed