Poem by my daughter.

FAITH.

My children sit, under the elephantine branches of the great beeches.
They are looking for treasure.
Dappled sunlight bounces off the greenery and flits across their concentrated frowns.
As they scrape and push at the leafy soil, wholesome black earth fills behind their nails.
A glimmer of something, glass? Metal? Gold?
The search intensifies. Shoulders taut with exertion. Faith.
At last , a brown glass bottle is discovered from it's hiding place.
It's deep lustrous colour is treasure indeed, for them , in their plastic reality.
Fingers stroke the smooth, polished glass.
Confirmation that treasure exists, and dragons and happy endings.

Treasure too, for me, in this moment with my children.

My faith and a tiny memory of this day and a brown glass bottle.