Seashells

[billy]

I pick love
like I pick seashells,
plain and small
and worth less than a dime.

[i love it, though i'm not keen on both the and's ]

They do not shine nor weigh
and bask not in splendor,
but hide in repose,
bare, weatherworn,
true.

again i love it bit it does feels a little archaic]

I pick joy
like I pick seashells,
scattered underfoot
common as dirt stones. [this line is perfect]

[wouldn't alter a thing in this stanza]

They wash in endless [would a comma after in work the flow better?]
with the ragged tide, [good line]
each shape a gift,
each chip a sight. [chip may be right, but it doesn't feel right]

And with modest breath
and caring deed
I wish only to rest and bleach
like weathered shells
with pieces spread
by quiet measured embrace;
drifting always back
in noiseless soft
to chalky, salt-white shore. [chalky for me suck hairy balls, if sand were chalk we'd be sunbathing on talcum powder and sinking in the surf ]

the first two lines on the last stanza feel a little weak but that's jmo.
i have to say i wish i wrote this poem addy. i thinks it's a little gem.

all you have to do is polish it a little so it shines jmo