The Rock Pool

Across from me is the rock pool and sat there, feet immersed, is the boy who was me. A thick mop of hair, having only a passing acqaintance with a comb, is being held hostage to the whim of a sea breeze caught in two minds. Beside me a little girl, plaited hair and freckles, looks thoughtfully into the pool. Her hand reaches out and gently takes hold of mine. The innocence of best friends brings an involuntary tear to my eye.

We are still there after all these years, and we will be there forever caught in time. I know it's true because Einstein tells me so.

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