Seashell
My shell is my home
	but without table and chairs
Just a cool empty space
	in which to lay my head
Do I get pleasure from being
	 afloat in the salty sea?
Do I gleefully scoff as I escape
	the trawler man's nets?
Do I find comfort in clinging
	steadfastly to the rocks?
Do I get a thrill from being the first
	in the race to reach the shore?
Do I feel sorrow or sadness
	at the end of my life?
No, I feel deep joy at the
	squeal of delight
Of a girl in a pink summers dress
	as she picks up the shell
Off the beach, from where
	I left it behind.