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SHELLS I walk the beach with head hung low and everyone can tell, I'm searching for the one that's right, the perfect little shell. I pick them up, examine them, each one so fresh and new. The more I look the flaws appear, much like me and you. We go through life searching for the perfect friend or mate. If perfection's what we're looking for it'll be a long, long wait. Each one I choose, perfect at first, but when I look real close, There's chips and cracks and tiny lines, that's what attracts me most. A treasuer now, once tossed about by tides and waves and time. It landed on this sandy shore, now I can make it mine. The little scares, the flaws, the chips, left over from life's strife, makes each and every one unique, gives meaning to each life. I look beyound the chips and cracks. I know I have some too. You're a treasure I hold dear. A friend's a treasure true. |
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