Conch Shell

Conch Shell

Conch shell, conch shell on the beach
I see the waves that you can't reach
Your clothes of white, pink and gold
All your wrinkles make you look so old
Your were a home for some little guy
Who hides from those who fly in the sky
I'd pick you up, and take you home
But there you'd sit, all alone

Author - Jennifer Dove 1986