It was too good to be true.
It had a dream of a front door
that opened onto a grand hall.
Inside a staircase led to a terrace
and the view was endless sky and water.
A dozen knights surrounded the perimeter,keeping silent watch,
waiting for the enemy that was
destined to come,
destined to come.
In the distance we hear the sound of the invaders approaching nearer
and nearer still.
They roll in,
and then retreat just as quickly.
They take no rest.
In the sweltering sun, we dig a moat
with our bare hands.
We need to protect our home.
We know the force against us is strong
and destroys everything rhythmically,
without discrimination, or regret.
Suddenly, in one grand attack
the enemy takes our labor,
our home,
now lost at sea.
All is washed away.
Our dreams destroyed by high tide.
The loss of sandcastles,
like the loss of childhood,
stings.
Only the memories last.