Snails

I remember the pitter patter of rain
The green of the wet trees
I remember my favorite sundress
clinging to my skin as I sat in puddles
I remember holding my sand bucket
and skipping to the rocks
stacked to form a small wall
in front of Sam’s house
I remember the unusually pink home,
innocently out of place
I remember chewing on some flowers
as I lifted the rocks, looking
I remember holding the jelly animals,
oblivious to their life
in the palm of my hand
I remember putting their little shells
in my bucket, piling them high
I remember crouching down
to look in all the nooks and crannies
I don’t remember letting them go.

By Leina F., 17, Massachusetts