My youngest in the pool this summer. She loves the water and reminds me of me when I was young. (That was a long time ago. LOL) My mom used to read a poem to me that I wrote on the back.
Under the green glass roof of waves,
The little mer-children play.
Their toys are shells and their homes are caves,
Their little pet fish feed beneath the spray.
They slip and dive,
Swoop and swirl,
Where the seagrass sways,
And the seashells curl.
Peep through the seaweed wafting wild,
And you might even see a mer-child.