Author: lisa

On summer days we searched the beach for gold,
but would have settled for a dime or two.
With pebbles we made trinkets that we sold
until you said you’d better things to do.

I went along but never quite forgot,
the colours of the smooth sea glass we’d find.
Or china patterns over which we’d fought,
those pieces that are long gone from your mind.

I think by counting grains of hourglass sand,
(to make the time pass slower while they fall),
someday I’ll learn, and not have to pretend,
to just forget those dreams you don’t recall.

Yet every winter, you fly to the sea;
if you find any glass, send some to me.

LMC