Shelby was ten
When they went to the beach again,
Little, lost rocks,
And gray seagull flocks,
Surrounded by the sea,
Where Shelby could run free.
The sights, sounds, and smells
Of the rolling ocean swells
All called Shelby to play
On this glorious summer day.
Looking down at the ground,
There were treasures abound:
Small, shiny stones,
Sea shells, and fish bones
Scattered over the cold, wet sand,
Tangled among orange seaweed strands,
Shining bright amongst the stones,
A little green rock stood alone.
Shelby stooped and scooped it up,
And dropped it into a small plastic cup.
Next there glinted a pebble of blue,
Then one of a pinky, orange-ish hue.
Quartz, crystals, and polished sea glass,
Shelby's collection was growing fast.
The little cup was almost filled to the top,
When something happened that made Shelby stop.
There lay in the sun the most beautiful shell,
But as Shelby bent to grab it, the plastic cup fell,
The treasures tumbled and scattered around,
Shelby tried to reclaim the fortune she'd found,
But as she looked at the stones with a heavy heart
She realized she could not tell them apart.
Each one was a treasure all its own,
From the colorful shells to the plainest gray stones.
How silly it seemed to pick out the best,
Shelby thought as she looked out over the rest.
Shelby only took one stone home that day,
It was small, it was flat, it was smooth, and it was gray.
April 25, 2013
- Published in the summer 2016 issue of literary journal Alaska Women Speak
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