Seashell Poem by Bianca Free

I want to be treasure marked on a map
for my explorer who is seeking,
he has come so far and wide,
But it is not I that he is striving to find

I am the seashell washed ashore
Children make a place for me, on their mounds
that never transformed to castles
the crowds of feet, coming and leaving out,
wear on my little shell until I am lost under layers
before I float away with the tide

I watch and wait, and hold what is in my heart, in
suck it in like the air
keep it suspended in my chest
as I drift
Realize I am not treasure,
But how I want to be found and had
and cherished like so