It’s a word there , at the edge of my mind
I feel it there just tangled, but cannot seem to find
what exact word it is.
I have heard it , I know, for sure.
It calls to me, from some forgotten shore
to speak it.
In the time of dreaming it comes , almost foaming,
it drifts in seaweed misty, gloaming,
pulled away with the tide.
Perhaps the selkies know it,
and one day they will show it ,
scrawled on the sea-glass floor.