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You towered beside me
on the dry compact dirt.

Seizing the pail and shovel
from my hands,
you dug into
the unyielding earth.

Patiently you formed
turrets, windows and a bridge.
Your fingers molded and shaped
a gleaming golden citadel —
the silent testimony
to your determined creativity.

It is a home fit for a queen,
bordered by the placid silver waters,
and guarded by the unwavering stare,
of the blind jealous sun.

You dressed it up
with combs of flags,
strings of shells and
smooth sparkling pebbles —
finishing touches
to your magnificent creation.

You never noticed the changes
gradually taking place ….

The tide is turning.
The silent waters are churning,
and the sea is raging.
The daylight is rapidly fading,
and the sunset is coming.

Your castle is crumbling.

As the waves are advancing,
your fortress flounders and falls.
It exuberantly ceases to be
as it is taken away
into the warm womb,
of the triumphant life-giving sea.