Small, wind washed, golden boy
He tests his toes in shallow waves
"Cold, cold", he cries, but carries on
Sandy, wet, and suddenly brave.
Blue eyes reflect the summer sky
Intent on castles built of sand
He chatters on to unseen friends
Always returning to take my hand.
Grown and married soon to be
Alone, same ocean, I reflect
On how things change and stay the same
Like foaming waves that come collect
The memories like messages scribed in sand
And childhood hopes and dreams marked out
With seaweed, shells, buckets and spades
And I remember the tiny hand
As I prepare to let him go
With love he will return to me
With his own child to build more dreams
And I will hold his tiny hand as we look out across the sea.
