{"id":95,"date":"2013-04-21T16:45:58","date_gmt":"2013-04-21T16:45:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/?p=95"},"modified":"2015-10-09T16:53:28","modified_gmt":"2015-10-09T16:53:28","slug":"the-shell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/2013\/04\/21\/the-shell\/","title":{"rendered":"The Shell"},"content":{"rendered":"<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>\n<div>The hardest thing<br \/>\nis letting go of the sound.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p>This tiny box I hold<\/p><\/div>\n<p>is like the shell is to the sea:<\/p><\/div>\n<p>within it is rests a distant wave<br \/>\nwhich smells of salt<br \/>\nand feels like mist.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<div>I love you,<\/div>\n<div>are the words through the squall<br \/>\nspoken at a moment<br \/>\nbefore the next wind buffets,<\/div>\n<div>a shout against the storm<br \/>\nspoken like a whisper.<\/p>\n<div>A growl at the world<br \/>\non a grey day,<br \/>\na snatch of string in the background,<br \/>\nthe sound of long roads rumbling<br \/>\nbeneath you.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div>Your laughter,<\/div>\n<div>rings out like gulls<\/div>\n<div>on a clear morning<\/div>\n<div>swooping and hovering,<\/div>\n<div>its sound like feathers on my cheek.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p>That small black shell<br \/>\nhas taken the ocean of you<\/p><\/div>\n<p>and when I hold it to my ear<\/p><\/div>\n<p>I hear wave after wave.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p>The shell can hold the sea,<\/p><\/div>\n<p>a thousand seas &#8211;<\/p><\/div>\n<p>and it is without time.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>The sounds of this shell<\/p><\/div>\n<p>I have listened to in the quiet night<\/p><\/div>\n<p>that I may remember the sea<br \/>\nand the sound of your voice<\/p><\/div>\n<p>when there are no shells<\/p><\/div>\n<p>save my own cupped hands,<br \/>\nstraining to hear a memory.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The hardest thing is letting go of the sound. This tiny box I hold is like the shell is to the sea: within it is rests a distant wave which smells of salt and feels like mist. I love you, are the words through the squall spoken at a moment before the next wind buffets, &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/2013\/04\/21\/the-shell\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">The Shell<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-95","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=95"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":96,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95\/revisions\/96"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=95"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=95"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moniquewrites.mbouchard.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=95"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}