Sandbox

The words he wrote kept disappearing Into that document that grew The more he wrote, the more the fearing That the longer he kept peering The flow of them became too few His hands kept frantically raging Across the keyboard in attempt To keep up with his own aging And that knowledge was so aching It filled him with utmost contempt So he imagined back his childhood And turned the words into soft sand Sentences sand castles of feel-good His sandbox purely made of plywood, Pleasure returned in this dreamland. *** N/A in SANDBOX Contest Sponsored by Anthony Slausen, October 7, 2016