On a shelf by the window, still gleaming and true,
Sits a whale made of glass, in a deep ocean blue.
He’s smaller than memory, yet somehow he keeps
The hum of the islands, the hush where love sleeps.
Once gifted in sunlight, where palm shadows fell,
When laughter still lingered and all had been well,
He swam through a childhood too fragile to last,
A token by my side when good days had passed.
The house split in silence, the waves pulled apart,
And he learned what it means to outgrow your heart.
Yet somehow, through decades of storms and of miles,
The whale stayed beside me with soft secret smiles.
He’s known every move, every loss, every year,
And still he glows faintly whenever light's near.
Proof, in translucent and aquamarine hue,
That feelings so old can also feel brand new.
So I keep him, this relic of sunlight and sea,
A witness who’s older than sorrow should be.
For love, even tempered so silent and frail,
Still breathes in the glass of a little blue whale.