Cornwall Seashells

Our Poem

Each generation of children play upon the sands.
A bucket and a spade clutched in tiny hands.
Rockpools where shrimps and crabs can hide,
Sandcastles built to be taken by the tide.
Squeals of delight echo all around,
Carried on the wind, it is a joyous sound.
Timeless are the games they play on the sandy shore,
Endless is the fun they have, rarely seeking more.
As we sit and watch with sunhats and our books
Memories come flooding back of caves and secret nooks,
Of picnics on sunny days with sand in every bite,
Ice creams and ball games, hours to fly a kite.
A beach where time stands still, lapped by the mystic sea
And every child can dream and for a while run free


Verse by Mary Lascelles