Pebbles black , grey , brown,
held tightly in the palms,
as some of them fall loose,
tiny palms moist with holding them,
pockets full of seashells,
and broken glass worn by the tides that hit it for years,
with feet free to roam around,
raced kids on the shore,
“I win , I win ” as they shouted,
with tumbling feet,

hair plastered to the forehead with moisture,
loose curls tied in ribbon & satin,
“wait for me” , rosy cheeks flushed,
as the tiny people in their tiny bubble,
knew not a worry in the world,
leaving back small footprints,
to be washed away with sequence of tides,
“I’ll mark our spot with this pebble ”
promising to remember it till the next time,
as each pebble laid on the shore ,
stamped with moments ,
stamped with dreams,
left there , to be found again

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