Sandcastles

The stick broke again, as he

carved out a ridge in the mound of sand.

She walked in and stood near by,

He smiled, and she waved a shy hand.

A casual nod was invitation enough,

She daintily ambled across the beach.

Her eyes spoke of stories many,

Her cheeks reflected a ruddy peach.

The boy extended a muddy hand,

Few words, and the acquaintance grew.

She saw he was busy building a sand castle,

And asked if she could help too.

He gleefully handed her a shovel,

They set to work with unusual zeal.

As they carefully moulded shapes aplenty,

The unsaid bond they both could feel.

Their castle, as they called it, was taking shape,

All the hard work was bearing fruit.

She had gone to fetch some more water,

But, on her way back, took a longer route.

An hour and a quarter later, she returned,

Wearing an expression yet unseen.

She spoke of other castles around, and how theirs

Wasn't as perfect as some others had been.

A little effort will make it so, the boy beseeched,

But something inside her heart had died.

She had wanted earnestly to take it to close,

But now nor time, nor effort she could bide.

The beach lured her no more, she walked away,

Before the boy could his dismay voice.

He tried hard to reason the turn of events,

Unperturbed by the sea’s rising noise.

He glanced at the castle, and all it could have been,

If only her thoughts had not been led astray.

Just then a wave rumbled right over the rampart,

Sand castles, he realized, are never meant to stay.