Sometimes treasures lie deep-buried,
‘Neath eons of soil and time,
Long resisting human efforts
To unearth and cleanse from grime.
But then there are rare occasions
When a prize will come to light
Resting beneath shallow waters
Waiting childhood’s keenest sight.
To the toddler on adventure,
Holding onto daddy’s hand,
Tide-smoothed pebbles, multicolored,
Constitute a treasure grand.
To participate in today’s prompt visit Daily Post.
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Nice one Sandra – back from Canada by the way, and still in one piece.
Thank you. Good to know you braved that liberal camp and came out unscathed. Of course, you could probably hear the cries of pain from all the tortured liberals just south of the Canadian border. They’re howling like whipped puppies over here.