Sea Shells on a Table.

I am looking
out my window
and I have
large shells
from the beach
sitting on my table
outside on my
porch.
At times
is seems like
it fits.
At times it seems
right.
other times
it seems odd.
those shells that came
from the beach
sitting on an
iron table in the country.
Does it make sense?
As tears stream
down my face
and I think
about me
in this life
this place in my
life.
Do I make sense?
I am like a shell
sitting on a table
who just wants
to be put
back in the water.
Let the strong
ocean take
me away
and let me
start again.
Fresh.