I Go Picking Seashells

I Go Picking Seashells

I look at the deep blue sea,
stretching endlessly before me,
as I sit on the sands, alone, very alone,
pondering over the vicissitudes of life.

It has just been a day,
since I had buried my soul mate,
of forty-five odd years,
and grief was choking every pore of my body.

It would be so easy to walk into the sea
and do away with myself and my grief.
It would be easy to drown for I had never learned how to swim,
I rose; my...