Darren White Poet Quintain (English)

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

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Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart April 15, 2017 at 9:01 PM I felt the frantic action in the first two stanzas and then the slowing sinking into soft sand in the third. Well done Darren. It is a deep pen taking many reads to ingest, very artfully done Piroet xomo Darren White April 16, 2017 at 1:15 AM Hahahaha, tell that to Anthonly. Not only did I get an N/A, no one commented but you :D