Diligently, she gathers
Gritty
sand and hard pebbles,
Unmindful
of marks they leave on her hands.
Earth's
laps
Invite
her to build
The
mansion of her dreams.
With
imagination running riot,
She
creates a castle from the sand,
Little
realizing the awaiting fate .
A sound
penetrates,
The
rising crescendo,
Of
advancing waves.
She
awaits
with
stoic countenance,
The
inevitable of it.
Touching
her feet
In
penance,
Waves
envelop her dream.
She
kneels down,
Crumbled
remains
Pass
through her fingers.
She
stares
At
her crumbled dream,
Diligently
she gathers,
Gritty
sand and hard pebbles.
Such a lovely story. Sad. Full of gentleness and sensitivity. Please keep on writing. A delight to read you. Françoise
ReplyDeleteLovely though sad. Wonderfully written. Please keep on writing as it is a delight to read you. Françoise
ReplyDelete