I had watched her dive, gone for minutes at a time.
Then, to the surface she rose with her treasures.
She dragged them all back to her island paradise.
And made this.
This morning I sent her the old familiar tougue twister:
She sells seashells by the seashore.
The shells she sells are surely seashells.
So if she sells shells on the seashore,
I'm sure she sells seashore shells.
I inquired, "Hey, lady! Wanna sell me some shells??"
She replied simply, "My shells are not for sale."