Shells

“What about this one Grams?”

“Wow, love that. Put it here, in my bag.”

Rosie runs on the beach, looks for more shells,

forgets, for a few seconds, to be sad.

Her soft hair wafts in the wind.

Waves rush in.

Within me oceans rise up, to meet them.

With my sleeve, I

Wipe tears from my eyes.

Musn’t let her see me cry.

Only three, not aware.

The seriousness, the sadness, the significance,

of the morning’s events,

Wash over her.

Just for these moments, she is wild, she is free.

Just for these few moments, she buzzes like a bee.

She run’s towards me.

“Gram’s, I’m cold. Can we go home now?”

I pick her up, hold her close, bury my face in her coat.

Can we? I wonder…