I was whole before I tore, a single skin, one ancient shore. Now I’m gone, yet still I stay, in drifting parts that move away.

When rain falls heavily, I catch its song, a chorus in tin or plastic. I carry builders' dreams and children's beach castles, yet I am empty without your hands.

I grow in the dark but seek no light, alive, yet not a plant in sight. I rise from damp where shadows stay, a quiet cap upon earth’s decay.

Something you do to your knees Something found on trees Something a seal does Change the ending to que for a type of ship that was found on the seven seas

I start as sap from forest veins, then heat transforms my polymer chains. I stretch, return, and still endure, made strong and flexible through fires cure.