I watched him grow.
A fern leaf opening.
A curious child.
His face searching for… reflecting the sun.
“What’s in the schoolbag!” I gasped at its weight.
“Rocks,” he said.
I thought his wit a bit dry for six.
Only… it was rocks!
“But why?”
He shrugged.
“I’m collecting them.”
Mary Sheehan wrote this story.
I enjoyed the story; cute and charming. Then I read the piece about you, ‘Mary Sheehan wrote this story.’ – like a ‘Kilroy was here’ tag written on a wall… that I thought was very clever and wondered if others had got the subtlety? A brilliant touch… was I right?