A. V. Koshy writes

An Epic on Childhood - 4 - Sandcastle

I build the walls
the doors and the windows
the turrets and towers
and finally the proud, fluttering pennants.
My sand castle watches
as the rasping tide comes in.
the shells that were the murals
fall down
The crabs, the in-dwellers
desert their king
the wetness of the sand and the sea-foam as they melt
my balustrades
and my love's desire to overcome time's depredations
moisten my eyelashes
before sweeping all away