I
probably over explain my poetry. So today, I’m going to let this one speak for
itself. Enjoy!
Sandcastles
the wet clumps damp and soft
between my fingertips
until the water drains
and lets my walls stand solid
and proud.
As the waves lap at the shore,
I dig a trench out for the water
to fill and drain,
using the excess sand to stack
trickles of towers
atop this architecture.
Yet even with my best effort,
the water comes again
and again
and again,
finally streaking away my reinforcements
and eroding the outer walls
now crumbling.
I had a dream of arches
and pinnacles and grandeur—
I had a plan,
but now, the final wave
washes away my last wall,
now little more than a lump
on the sand,
barely a reminder
of what was.
I know I can build again,
but my arms are sore,
and I’m just
so tired
of fighting
this tide.
***
Let’s
chat! What did you think of the poem? What are some things you are tired of
doing that your progress seems to be eroded too quickly? Have you read about my
up-and-coming poetry collection yet? Be sure to check it out!
Similar poems: Fog; Fireflies; and Concrete Forest, Paper Meadows
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