seashells
Seven.
Cheeks ruddy, feet sandy, eyes wide- the tiniest thing's a treasure.
She runs and stops, looking back to smile, and then takes off again.
She picks something up, smiling so hard it might hurt, and holds it up.
"Mommy!"
The sun's been up long, and she squints a wee bit.
She holds her newfound treasure higher up, almost afraid that her mommy won't see it because it's so small.
"It's broken sweetheart," Her mommy smiles.
She looks at the space below her left elbow and looks up again, smiling with the exact same smile-
a tiny mirror image.
"So am I."