the sea has dried up and left a single conch in its place

there was no one left to blow the conch

to hear the sounds that would hiss forth and curl their way through the sandy pink shell into the moist air

lost, lost, lost was the sound of that conch

was the music

                  was the soul


purposeless, it dwelled on the dry sand where a beach had once washed over it

submerged in its own memories


now, it is only food for time



© Nickolas Urpi