Pebbkes from the shore

Rounded smooth by ocean’s force

Evoke memories

Pebble
Smooth and cool in sunbaked palm,
Her treasure found at last. 
Days of scanning eagle eyed, 
A badge of seaside past. 

Today a Hepworth sculpture,
A Moore for tiny eyes.
Placed in a dollhouse garden,
An art space fairy sized. 

Placed next to two stone siblings,
A magpie feather too.
A still life of a memory,
Of toes in sandy shoes. 

Now, door to Castle sandy,
With shells a path to moat.
As tiny flags with Union Jacks,
Sail by on tiny boats. 

Lined up like tiny solders,
Each beach a different gift.
A subtle row of treasures,
A cheeky jewel to lift. 

From pink and grey of granite,
To tiny rocks of slate,
Or sparkly crystal nuggets,
A pocket: each rocks fate. 

She keeps her bowl of pebbles,
Each one a memory store,
The nurses in the home, 
Prompt gently asking more. 

She tells them different stories 
Of beach days free and wild,
When clanking heavy pockets,
Were the diary of a child. 

LW

Never stop treasure hunting xx