The Child by the Shore

Victoria Romero, Shoreline, 2009. Oil and mixed media on canvas, 2023.

 

By Alyssa Roze

 

The child sat before the shore,

Facing the door towards the unknown.

Oh, how there must be something more.

 

The child had dreams of crystal waters,

Formed shapes of diamonds that wither, 

Down in the deep blue held great treasures.

 

The child began collecting seashells,

That she could sell by the seashore.

Step by step she grabbed five,

Maybe almost twelve,

Some of them even matched the dress that she wore.

 

The child started to waltz along the trail of sand,

The air droplets sprinkled her nose.

The child spinned and twirled,

Feeling the squishy, wishy, washy between her toes.

 

The child made her way back to the seashell store,

Filing through towards the counter,

To tell em’ she’s got more.

She hollers at the lonely stand,

But only silence in response.

 

The child, defeated and a little bored,

Heads out to follow the crash of the waves.

This loneliness cuts deeper than a sword,

“Doesn’t anybody miss me?” the child cries.

 

The child is tired from the day’s end.

She follows the trail of the sand back to bed,

Awaiting the next morning.

Her feeling fades away, 

No longer lingering in her head,

The sunrise holds still for her, 

Keeping orange and red.

 

The child awakes no longer by the seashore,

Confused by her bedroom, 

Where were the seashells?

She swore she only needed twelve or so.

 

Except the child had never actually been to the beach before.