Collecting Seashells
I lie on the edge of the tidal pool
trying to find a pretty shell.
The face reflected back at me
is a face I know so well.
You lie on the other side of the pool
grumbling, as you usually do.
Helping me search for treasures,
a summer pastime for me and you.
The water ripples, our faces distort,
a perfect shell you've found.
I see your smile as the water settles.
Neither of us makes a sound.
Seashells forgotten, we lie on our backs
on the rocks that surround the pools.
Not as young as those faces in the water.
Just a silly, old pair of fools.
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2011
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