poem

 Sea Shelling We all went sea shellingBut under certain conditions:You could only leave the beachWith one shell.By the end of the sessionYou had to pick one.The rest returned to the shifting sands Of life ’s oaken hourglass.My son found theperfectshell,Better than anyone else,And don ’t anyone try to deny itWhile my daughter found oneWith an interesting etchingCarved on its white back Like an old woundFrom a survived attack.My wife couldn ’t choose.She loved them all.In the end she picked Without looking — a broken one Which she treasured and lovedUntil she was dead. I waded out into the oceanAnd was swept away in a riptide.The kind of shells I was looking for Had to be alive1/16/24

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - January 16, 2024 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs