Dr. Ken © 2014
I am not strong, I do not bend,
My shell is paper-thin.
I look the same as you recall
But I’m not the same at all.
If I survive the day, I win.
I have all night to mend.
A million possibilities, like wet sand at water’s edge;
I can take any shape that fits.
But, like a kid’s castle built with pride,
It won’t last past high tide;
Washed away in a trillion bits
For tomorrow’s kid to dredge.
I am built again in the morning light
With unlimited potential.
But, these ramparts cannot be defended
Nor these crumbing walls mended.
The façade is ornamental;
Built and destroyed with equal delight
It’s true I collapse repeatedly
With no hope of permanency.
I shift, I waft, I rearrange
But, my essence doesn’t ever change
For not even the relentless pounding sea
Can break the grains that make up me.