11/27/2014 Feet sink into the wet sand, The waves crash against my legs as I walk collecting shells in my hand. Beautiful, colorful, each its own kind, Of all sizes and shapes that nowhere else I would find. Each with their own stories, All took a different path, I am sorry I cannot recount their histories, How they managed to survive the ocean’s tumultuous wrath. As bubbles burst and seaweed is washed ashore, I know I have not seen them all, there are so many more. I look out upon the surface of the ocean, How it flows with such graceful motion, Yet I know the fierce strength of the riptide, That just out of sight endless dangers hide. But I won’t stop plunging into the depths, To continue my search and embrace the challenges, Perhaps one day someone will stop me along the shore, And maybe, just maybe I will be able to share my story.