On the shore

What will wash out on the shore After the waves go back, What treasures out of the sea's core Will push me out of track On this pretty sunny day?

Tidal waves travel to deep ocean, Leaving behind piles of wet sand. Noticing this regular motion, Seekers set out on the land And search for lost things.

Seashells, lost earrings and stones Shards of green bottle glass And dead branches that look like bones, Something to take, yet nothing on to pass, Baubles and useless stuff.

But even baubles break and cut Hands with blood pouring, A door long locked and tightly shut May be unlocked by a key the waves bring, And allow forgotten to return.