Beachy, together, childhood days
erecting castles, made with our hands.
Endeavoring, close to our ebb
letting our waves soften our sand.
Moulding, shoulder to shoulder,
I never felt that free again,
though I did try. Over time,
I don’t know why, I crossed a line.
And as my castles grew in size,
incoming waves continued too,
and battered down my secrets and lies.
Today, I yearn for that beach. To be free again,
to start over, to see my young self as I was then.
Copyright © James Fredholm