Poetry Wednesday

The Conch

You go
where I can’t follow and leave
a white seashell.

Cherish me, love me always
and never un-love me,
says the poor husk-thing,
outgrown by you.

Little hovel, passed among growers,
you will always be handled,
marveled for the blue blue blue
very bluegreen waters
all snug inside you.

Carry me around;
I am not uncommon, and will not be taken.
But I am home; a thing to be carried,
and outgrown.

Annnnnd something not-mine, which I love:

ordinary wind is winding (cold face blush
by e.e. cummings

ordinary wind is winding(cold face blush
wind is winding here there tomorrow)(
graceful dove wind
theatrical scar wind
thunderclapclapclap(clapclapstrike)
struckwinding wind