Enclosed in the palm of my hand
Of a love story hatched amid
Sand dunes and surf.
From my fingers’ grieving embrace
To the billows;
Under starlight, shimmied paths new
To guide your return.
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Very few of them make it, it’s true… Is there not some sort of turtle express train we could make that they could at least get a ride to the ocean? ‘The shell of a love story’ I love the comparison here that all too often, we too end up with a shell of a love story! I believe that was intentional. And it’s all very visual; like you’re there too. Well said Vic!
Thank you, spartacus. I recently had the opportunity to help several baby turtles reach the ocean and was so moved by the experience that I drafted a poem as soon as I got home. Very pleased that you felt immersed in the imagery and experienced it too. You are quite right: every word was chosen for a reason.