When I was younger man

I made castles built of sand

and cried when they got wet.

I watched and wept

as my dreams turned to mud,

my crenelations crumpled

and my ramparts ran to ruin.

I wallowed, worn and wary,

wondering what if?

But now I stand on surer soil

and I’ve built a better building

from more meaningful materials

with dreams that don’t destruct

at the sucking of the sand.