The Shell

Rough bark hewn from the tree

Is not unlike your surface

Making you appear unwanted

Old, alone on the expanse of sand.

Darkly-colored lines and peach furrows

Scar your surface.

Nothing to attract you to me…

Nothing to make me turn you over…

To see the metallic luster of pearls

Shining like the copper pot on my kitchen shelf

To see the seam smooth as glass

Showing us you were torn from your better half.

Nothing to make me pick you up…

And hold you tightly in the palm of my hand.