By Tasha Slotnick, age 13
I dig my feet down,
deeper
in the sand,
feeling the rough
yellow grains
reach up
between my toes
and past my ankles,
making the top of
my head
just barely
graze your shoulder,
which I just recently
sped past
in a fit of growth.
Now I am in reverse
slowly shrinking back down.
I yell for you to come see
this amazing feat.
You turn around and walk over,
leaving your footprints
in the sand behind you.
When you
reach me,
you rest
your chin on my head,
your breath
tickling my ear.
You whisper to the ocean
your wish-
that I could
stay this way forever-
your little girl.
But you let go.
I struggle
out of the sand
and run
toward my siblings,
leaving another
pair of footprints in the sand,
leading toward you
and another,
away.
This poem was originally published in Mamalode Magazine in Spring 2013. Theme, SPACE.
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