With her laughter, light as lacy foam
and her spritely eyes, bright as pearls;
across the seashore, she shall roam;
my pretty, precious, seashell girl.
Wet sand sugaring her fingers
and clinging to her feet and toes;
over shingle, she will linger
till, every single shell, she knows.
There’s horns shed by sea-unicorns
and scalloped shells like fairy fans;
turbans sea-sultans might have worn
ornately carved by Nature’s hand.
She shows me a brown cowrie shell,
clasped tightly like a flower bud;
then bridal veil tidal waves swell
and, over the smooth shoreline, flood.
She leads me to her secret cave
where her brightest treasures are stored.
I stay until the crashing waves
become a gentle sigh once more.