The slender, graceful woman

Walked down the path to the sea.

She had her daughter with her

Who was the age of three.

 

They stopped to smell the flowers,

And she called each flower by name.

She knelt and smelled each fragrance,

For none was exactly the same.

 

She taught her daughter to sing

To the birds, flowers, and bees,

And to take the time to rest

Under the near-by trees.

 

They praised God for the beauty,

And searched the deep blue sky.

They saw a flock of sea gulls,

And waved as they flew by.

 

Her Mother laughed and cried,

As she swung her in the air.

She held her for a moment,

And softly touched her hair.

 

She said, “sweet child, I love you,”

As she took her by the hand.

They skipped down to the sea

Where the water lapped the sand.

 

They stepped into the water

And played in the sun-lit surf.

They searched for shells in the sea,

Their voices filled with mirth.

 

Even from a distance,

You could tell, they were one:

The woman, the girl, and the sea

Underneath the noon-day sun.

Yu/stan/kema