My feet sunk into the soft sand.
The waves called to me.
“Come play,” they said,
“within my water so that I can
hear your laughter.”
The water washed up on the yellow sand,
trying to reach me.
The breeze rustled in my hair
and the only sound I could hear
was the love that the seagulls shared that morning.
In the distance, the water
looked as pretty as a pearl.
Just as I was about to turn back,
something sparkling came out of the sand.
At first, it looked like a shell.
Then it became more.
It was a precious turtle,
small and helpless.
Suddenly, crabs and seagulls
crowded around the turtle.
Breakfast was what they saw.
“Stop!” I shouted.
I walked over to where the turtle hid and I guarded it.
Slowly, I walked with it,
imagining our conversation as we sauntered to the sea.
Then, the turtle stumbled
over a shell the color of my mother’s eyes.
Finally, it made it to the sea.
I picked up the shell,
for it would be my memory.
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