At the green edge
of the Atlantic
on a floor of shells,
like bullet casings,
you found a stone ,
a perfect circle,
partly air,
flat down
the middle.
You peered
through.
Only I saw,
inset,
the eye
of a
storm,
the jewell.
At the green edge
of the Atlantic
on a floor of shells,
like bullet casings,
you found a stone ,
a perfect circle,
partly air,
flat down
the middle.
You peered
through.
Only I saw,
inset,
the eye
of a
storm,
the jewell.
