When Life Takes Hold

The old man walked slowly along the beach,

Stiff toes in sand, scanning the shore for seashells.

Finding half of a manila clam, he picked it up,

Tracing the ribbed skin with his thumb.

The smell of the sea blowing in the wind,

He closed his eyes, and began to cry.

He remembered how he used to collect

Shells for her, how he used to scatter

Them around the house, tucked them in

Nooks and crannies for her to find,

Paired with a love note underneath:

Your love will be safe with me.

He cried harder now, remembering how

Life took hold, and how the shells became

Less and less, how the paper became barren

Of words, how her face with the expectant look

Of surprise withered with age. How much

He wished he could give her a shell now, slip it 

Under her pillow, wake her up to the morning sun,

Kiss her, and let her know that he was the luckiest man alive.

His tears staining his lips with salt, he peered out

At the ocean, the cold gray-blue of the Puget Sound.

I hope you know that I never stopped loving you;

I only ever loved you more.

Throwing the shell into the water, he hoped she could hear him,

Would wake from her eternal slumber 

And forgive him, face filled with joyful surprise,

Realizing that all along she was loved

More than she could have ever known.