It was almost like a summer ritual
To prance along the brightened shores of grain,
When balmy trees wafted as usual
Aunt Em’s hut glazed nearby lakeside's terrain.
Waxed seashells rose like buffed pods on the ground,
Dotted and curved, echoing of hummed waves played
As we gathered them on coast walks, spellbound
The array of tinseled humps were engraved
And strung together into bright marble charms.
While Aunt and I giggled, skirts fluttered on air
Knitting loops as bracelets on tanned forearms,
An enchantment draped by August’s fanfare.
…I revel now at the trance of seashells’ gifts
my childhood heart nestling magic that uplifts!
You're A Little Kid Again Contest, Juli- Michelle
Written by: nette onclaud
* I was 7 years old when i began to take a special liking
for seashore fare, perhaps influenced by an aunt who
had a cottage on a beachfront. More than swimming, it
was the beauty of nature that allowed me to connect with
the world, with nature and the One. Till now, I collect
seashells, about more than a thousand pieces to remind
me of the gifts from the sea--- its music, wonder, and
sense of peace.