On the ridge of dried out foam
Marked by high tides’ ever flow;
On a barren beach, about as bare
As my heart feels right now;
Exposed to wind and wave,
Stands my rickety creation-
A structure, not so very tall
With walls bound to fall.
It has a moat, its first defense;
Shells, pebbles line its sides
And towers with Gothic peaks,
From dripping mud through fingers.
Bare and alone on a barren beach,
I keep on digging, piling, shaping
For fear of thoughts that wander
When I idly sit in quiet here.
My heart jolts as thoughts approach.
I blank my mind, continue building;
Carving crenels on these walls,
It slowly gathers some appeal.
A castle mostly made of sand
Will be a bastion of love-
Decorated, fortified, entrenched-
To melt away eventually.
A fort signifying my civil attempt;
My futile ongoing struggle just
To hold and cherish, possess and keep
The love of another one like me.
Waves and wind will wear these walls.
The castle will cave in, towers fall,
Reduced to but a lonely bump
On the shore for half a day.