Beach Glass

Worn smooth by time, a shard of 

emerald rests in her hand, once 

sharp and jagged, now softened. 

The little girl traces its dull edges, 

no longer sharp, yet still uneven, 

broken but complete in its new shape.

Scattered along the sand, other pieces

glisten—blue, white, brown—each one 

different. Tumbled

in the tide’s grip and toughened

by waves. 

There they lie, imperfect,

not sparkling like gold,

but worn. And still, the little

girl searches for them everytime.