WOW, what big feet you have grandma!
One-two-three-four, wet sandy footprints pressing down.
All the better to chase you with my dear!
Five-six-seven, sticky-cold chilly, brown
It feels funny when I run grandma; like my toes are sinking!
Eight-nine-ten, oceans swirling underfoot, waiting, wanting to suck you in…
That’s just the sea goddess kissing the soles of your feet,
Crystally beige, golden black, it’s all around; all expanse no lack
What is it made of grandma, the sand?
Oh, you know, crushed memories and shelled creatures of the sea,
We are sand, my dear, and sand is we.”
© Suzy Rigg