A snail shrivels up and dies in the sun
A lifetime of working, finally done.
Minuscule shell, left on the ground
Rocking in the breeze, waiting to be found.
Then – the sound of tiny feet –
Pitter, patter, soft and sweet.
Down the path and suddenly stop –
Stop and stoop on bended knee
Scoop it up with childish glee.
Grasped tight and held aloft
Showing off the treasure she sought.
Across the garden two heads swivel
At the loud triumphant giggle.
One is young and shrieks with joy,
The other old, and at the noise
Smiles gently as they place their find
Into the brick filled with its kind.
There the shells will sit and yearn
For the snails who won’t return.
The woman weeds, the children play,
The perfect lazy summer’s day.
Though soon the house will be a shell,
For now, at least, all is well.
A lifetime of working, finally done.
Minuscule shell, left on the ground
Rocking in the breeze, waiting to be found.
Then – the sound of tiny feet –
Pitter, patter, soft and sweet.
Down the path and suddenly stop –
Stop and stoop on bended knee
Scoop it up with childish glee.
Grasped tight and held aloft
Showing off the treasure she sought.
Across the garden two heads swivel
At the loud triumphant giggle.
One is young and shrieks with joy,
The other old, and at the noise
Smiles gently as they place their find
Into the brick filled with its kind.
There the shells will sit and yearn
For the snails who won’t return.
The woman weeds, the children play,
The perfect lazy summer’s day.
Though soon the house will be a shell,
For now, at least, all is well.
