Before We Leave


Walk the beach one more time.
Pause to pick up jingle shells:
Gray, orange, white and

Search for glossy black points
Amid the fragments of broken shells.
Gather sharks teeth and
Drop them in the corner of a
Pocket, not to lose them.

Collect the stones, cashew-carved
By pounding seas and
Rub your thoughts into them. 

Now I understand why it’s
Difficult to throw away
My pockets when I’m home.



  1. Ok Ptc,

    I have a shark’s tooth. It was given to me by my granddaughter ten years ago.
    I carry it in my wallet.

    You’ve written yet another poem that takes me to my childhood. Each image
    recalls a memory for me.

    You write with an authentic voice; the voice of one who knows her subject well.

    So very much enjoyed this poem and all your work I’ve seen.



    • When a reader makes a connection to a text, the writer receives a directive to revisit experiences, to see again what can’t be forgotten, and form the words to show the memory anew. Your responses drive me inward, outward, and beyond what I thought I would/could say. Thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Ptc,
    Your writing is as warm as a comforting blanket. In this particular poem, it covers the reader’s mind with gentleness of an ocean breeze. We could just step right into that picture and double check our pockets. Thank you for the adventure. I’m glad you’re here @ the WordPress blog.


    • I am happy to be here, and I have so many “pocket finds.” Some are shells; others are seeds and leaves from walks through the forest. Thank you for very kind words.

      Liked by 1 person

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