Gift passing on
Mother of pearl,
Skin or scale
A slither of shell
Rivers of rainbow
coloured light
pinks and greens
like a hologram
as I move it
We all have the same.
Gifted from Tom
Scrumped from his life
Found on a beach?
Back of a shop?
A fragment of something
Separate, unidentified
He passes it on
This slither of beauty
As one does
An observation
Smoothed by the sea
of tidal age
We all become
as sand to dust.
The last jacket
has no pockets.
June 2014
Kalikellett 