Pebbles

White hair,

Salty air,

Light breeze, the day is fair,

A sweet age,

The toddling stage,

Little legs and bare rib cage,

Wavelets meet,

Round tiny feet,

Where the sea and sand both greet,

And turn to shingle,

Every single,

Pebble laid where ripples mingle,

A secret treasure,

Placed for pleasure,

With value vast beyond all measure,

To find, select,

Take home, collect,

Years later, on their charm reflect.

In the vase,

They glint like stars,

The waved blue glass obscures their scars.

In that hue,

Of azure blue,

She sees the sea and her there too.

With white hair curled,

And fists unfurled,

Not a care within her world.

To glimpse herself,

Upon the shelf,

Young and blessed with perfect health,

Sends her once more,

To times before,

Hunting pebbles on the shore.