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Children toil with their buckets and spades sculpt castles into the sand

In joy and in innocence they build towers gates draw bridges and moats

Know deep in their hearts that the tides are stronger than fortifications

Nothing is for keep nor for keeps and yet they construct impermanence


Close to the dunes the Germans are at it again adults or so it would seem

Had their towels on the beach first thing in the morning and they dig deep

A pit just large enough to shelter their families from wind and voyeurs 

They raise a flag and post a significant sign ‘This belongs to our tribe’


Draft shields go up with pegs and strong rope anchored in the belief

That possessions will last and conquest yields benefits and acclaim

They might not be falsifiers of history rather people hurt deeply inside

As they raise walls and gates confident that they are stronger than time


And then there is my flower girl in her forties but teenage in wild soul

A woman childish and playfully grown up and thus wiser than most

She fashions a display of roses thistles lotus flowers and aspirations

Not for a coat of arms but faithful that petals and leaves outlast surrender


Aware that her foundations might be feeble or volatile she scans the shore

Finds a wooden board to support her cast and lays the basis for freedom

When night settles she carries her float to the edge at the turn of the moon

Right where the river feeds a lagoon as ripples of foam start a new journey


Maybe tomorrow the buoyancy of hope will bring back the arrangement

Or not and why would it matter because sand is abundant and so is faith

A dolphin might jump over or a flock of seagulls take rest from their flight

Seashells could take hold of infinite beauty in one thousand trickles of peace


Moments matter most that uncertain future and the breeze will sustain

While mere humans mermaids and purveyors of lasting memories and fun

Supersede hanging on to false prophets and let go what cannot be held

The young woman will still be in her prime for young at heart never fails


The small Me used to be that German unable to let go of material matters

She told me so much on my attempts for kindness humility and compassion

Taught me to throw caution to the wind to sail closer to the eye of my storms

I am her apprentice and make love to the jewels bestowed from her fortune



25th June 2019
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