Her hair hung over her face
rounded back and crossed legs.
In pebbles that covered her toes
she was seven years old.
a left over sparkler
and a washer, near by
made a spinning toy of them.
spin..spin..then spin it again.

Toes pushed deeper
now only heel and ankle show.
soft face, granny gown of white,
warm in the days sunlight.

A longing blew in the wind
not enough pebbles to bury
what was..was?
back then.

little girl
stayed in the rocks.
Sad smiling women rose
shaking off her dust covered toes.

author rita s.

editors note: this is from the delphi forum different minds, there was some new material with another poem as well as this, it was such a good poem and i wanted more time for it to sink in but was tired from not enough sleep the previous three days travelling down from the northwest coast of scotland then flying back to tasmania

if only we had forever
to consider each poem
in the clear glaze
of time and days forever
instead of the befumbled mutterings
of a sleep clouded mind