A seashell was the greatest find
for an eight year old at the time.
A conch shell was the most prized sought
elusive more often than not.
But when it’s found the finder gains
a worth much more than Mary Jane’s
and bubblegum he could wish for
from any corner candy store.
Within its aperture is filled
with sounds of surf and sea that thrills
his mind when pressed against his ear
then shared among his childhood peers
this brightly colored spiral shell
where once a spineless mollusk dwelled.
Comments about this poem (Conch by Albert Ahearn )
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