Sand

Grains shed imperceptibly.
From my sand sculptures.
So they are always coming apart, slowly.
I like to build turtles.
And cats too.
I use sand first.
Then water.
Just enough water.
But water is fickle.
I must work fast, before the ocean calls the sand back into the water.
The sand becomes my art gallery.
My creations draw crowds for photos.
A cat, a turtle.
Flip flops, a car.
Whatever my mind decided on.
But the sea has decided something different.
It wants its sand back.
Like a person who left their keys on the counter.
The water will always come back.
For the sand that gives the ocean depth.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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