Empty Seashell Bucket

Im sifting in the sand:

Ma said they’d be seashells.

All I have to do is simple,

that’s what I’m told.

Cute swimsuit…
 

check.

A bucket to collect them 

when they inevitably wash ashore…
 

check.

And most importantly,

 conviction!
 

I’ve definitely got that, 

I'm all set.

But when the sun begins

 to descend into slumber,

and dyes the sky 

with its last breath of sunshine,

I stand staring at the coast and wonder—

why didn’t I get any?
 

I did everything right.