Seashell

I remember when I was little,
I could hold a seashell to my ear
And be transported to the ocean.
I could feel the vibration
Of waves crashing
On bumpy, barnacled beaches;
I could smell
The salty sea air,
Blowing through my curls
And brushing my skin;
I could almost make out the cawing of the gulls,
Floating high above the water
And flapping about for fish.
As I listened,
I drifted with the tide,
Ebbing and flowing with ease.
My eyelids fluttered,
Envisioning the calm waters,
With all of the energy
Bubbling beneath the surface.
How can such a world
Be contained in such a small shell?
How can the mighty roar
And rock of the ocean
Fit in the spiraling spine
Of a seashell?
The sea waves become
Sound waves,
Splashes spin through
The cool, creamy crevices
Of this little shell.
It tells the story
Of whence it came
And carries its whole world inside it.