The Beach

I play with sand because all is sand.
I build castles from it despite their inevitable demises.
The wind's abrasions suffers the towers until their moist walls crack.
It's alright because I know the wind well,
It suffers me not.

Others climb intricate stairs upwards,
They pass buckets of sand in haste,
Hoping to beat the wind,
Hoping to beat the tide.

Their castle falls as it should,
And I laugh.

Upside-down buckets and half-buried spades amuse me,
Not upside-down and half-buried humans.
Boys with bowls above their brows scurry.
Only their quick glances and quick whispers peak over the trenches.

Someone captured their flag as is expected,
And I laugh.

The wind ushers the tide to me as if giving it away.
I seem to be the only one to recognize such a charitable act.
Oh well all the more for me.
Footsteps follow my feet toward the hissing,
Until my immersed torso becomes ghostly.

I drown in the frothing deep as was foreseen,
And I laugh.