What is it about these days of summer that are so heart-breakingly familiar,
like some long-forgotten, lost day that belonged to me
when I was small.
Now somehow, magically transfered to these small people who populate my day,
who take my hand and run with me through the sandunes of my childhood,
who remind me to look up at the clouds,
who show me that all of this is still here.
A sunlit day,
a garden filled with daisies,
the sound of their laughter amidst the waves,
a little stone or leaf or flower that finds it's way into my pocket.
Peel away the cobwebs and the sparkle is there
as it always was.