A Shell Is Not Always The Home


Sweetheart, let me in.
It's time for our lives to begin.
Please, do come out of your shell.
It is not home, it is merely a cell.
Sure you're shell is pretty and nice,
Sure it makes you feel safe through the nights;
But the you inside that shell is prettier, nicer,
The one I love and cherish, the you inside is her.
So please, do take a step outside,
Take my hand, I'll be your guide.

Look at how much greener the grass is,
and how the birds chirp is just too good to miss.
But for now, we'll head through the white picket fence,
And into our world, where things will make sense.
In our world, we'll kiss and we'll hug,
we'll cuddle in a blanket so snug
That we can't help but fall asleep,
No more will we need to count sheep.
You'll wake up to a poem every morning,
And while you're reading, with no warning,
I'll sit up and hug you as close as two beings can meet;
I'll cradle you close, so you can hear my heartbeat.

My heart, it beats for you, you know;
Above all the noise and pain and woe.
It beats for you and calls you forth.
My love is a compass, and you're my north.
But before we can hug and laugh and smile,
Before we can kiss and hold hands for awhile,
You must come out of your shell, my dear.
Believe in me, there's nothing to fear.


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