We scavenged all day at the seashore,
Just my five-year-old son and me.
Left with sunburned nose, grit between the toes,
And a priceless memory.
His little hand in my hand,
Our prints in the glistening sand,
Set our sights on the horizon,
And followed the lay of the land.
My hair blew off my forehead,
Tossed by the wind that rose …
We caught our breath and continued our trek,
While the rippling tide tickled our toes.
We rescued a starfish stranded;
When the white-capped tide rushed in …
He was trapped on the ridge of a sandbar;
Flung him back to his prickly kin.
We built castles with flooded moats;
We waved to a hundred boats;
We played on a musical conch;
Till we had to stop for lunch.
Then he strung me a seashell necklace,
To go with my best dress …
Caught his finger in a clam;
How he did that is anyone’s guess.
Too soon seafaring stars flecked the ocean,
And a sodden sun swam on the waves;
And a boat of a moon sailed the sky too soon,
Toward mysterious pirate caves.