Crouched down,
beneath a tangled canopy
of climbing rose and honeysuckle,
I watch enthralled
as tiny snails,
no bigger than my fingernail,
trail through the dark brown leaf mould
in their hidden world.
Slowly
I become aware of sound
somewhere from outside this new found world,
and shifting my awareness
I recognise my mother's voice
calling me by name,
back to my own world
of warm sunshine,
yellow daffodils,
and a picnic on the spring green lawn.
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