Monday Poem: Sandcastles



We are here, eager for the morning,
waiting to take the day in our hands
and run with it down to the beach,

to build the sandcastles of our childhood
on the hard sands before the tide of life
comes tumbling in to wash it all away.

When we return to these beaches
as grown-ups there will be no trace
of any of those sandcastles we struggled
to build against the onrush of the tide.

The world around us too, has changed,
the long endless beach is now a small cove
that encloses this small beach so tight.

The sand churned by all the days between
holds no trace of the days we spent here
in those long endless summers of childhood.

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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