The Combers
I sigh a deep and heavy sigh
As I glance to my right.
My sister is fingering the tiny
Treasure she found today,
A stunning piece of seaglass,
That shimmers triumphantly
In the light of the setting sun.
My daddy took us to the beach
Earlier that day to comb the shore.
He is an old man, but his
Careful eyes never miss
The rare treasures that wash
Up with the rolling tide.
I am young, new to the joys
Of beachcombing. I have little
Patience, which runs even lower
As the sun moves across the sky.
I begin to wonder if the sea
Is keeping its gems for itself,
But then my sister walks over
To show Daddy her discovery:
A small piece of glass.
It is a shocking mint green,
Its texture so clean and smooth
I wonder if it’s glass at all.
Daddy congratulates her.
I scowl behind their backs.
I wonder where my treasures are
Amongst the churning waters.
In the light of the setting sun,
I sigh a deep and heavy sigh
And I glance to my left to see
My daddy’s hand is comfortingly
Around mine. My sister pockets
The perfect piece of seaglass.
