Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The Lion's Paw

Endlessly, I comb the surf, searching
as bits and pieces of shell bubble forth
from the water and sand,
the smooth foundation of this island.

Looking now, I see
glistening coral sheaves, pearl-colored turrets
and smoky gray triangles -
like a heron's bill.

And then, in one piece,
as if reaching up and out from the deep blue sea
a perfectly-shaped Lion's paw
appears to greet me.

Happily, I scoop it up
and carefully place it in my bag,
resolving to carry it home
on the airplane.

But, somewhere along the road
from the island to here,
it vanishes -
creating instead, a memory.


  1. I like your imagery, Egg. And the way it tapers to "a memory".

    And memories change in your mind, you see things differently with age. What you thought at one time, morphs to a different view; a different perspective.

    Wow, my tongue is wagging here. I like your poem.

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. Three years later, I'm glad the Lion's Paw went missing and remains, instead, in my mind and heart - not my hands.