Alice was collecting pretty shells

On the smooth but rigid beach

Most of the shells were vacant

But a few were quietly occupied

So she returned these to the sea

It was reported that Alice

Was walking on the wild waters

By those idle on the promenade

Yet I knew that it was nothing more

Than a fragile white mirage

Which are often witnessed

On these the cruelest of April days

 

 

 

07/04/21