She saw this seashell by the seashore on a Saturday at 7 a.m.,
well, maybe a bit later than seven.
She and the shell shared stories and some songs, soaking in sunshine.

As she spoke softly to the shell, it seemed to say it was a shell-moth
sitting among the seaweed til Puget Sound swept it into the sea again.

Surely, she said, the sea will sweep you up soon.
She stood and stepped over stones to the shore,
where she tried to catch a wave for the shell-moth.

She stood still, sang a strong song, and summoned the surf.

So long, seashell…

Sayonara, it said.