Sandcastles In The Sun

He sits on the beach near the surfs never ending tide, and builds sandcastles every day.

He stares out across the open sea oblivious to the rising tide and sadly watches his day’s labor come undone.

His hair is long and gray, yet he builds these castles each day.

He is unaware of those which pass him by; he feels no sense of reason or rhyme.

Sadly he has seen too much; too much pain, too much suffering and he alone awaits his time.

Come rain or shine, he still builds these imaginary castles on the beach; for you see…it’s all in his mind.

He has collapsed; both his mind and body have been broken by the harshness of time.

He dips cup after cup of wet sand, his castles take shape…hour after hour to make it through the day.

He hears footsteps approach his way; a young black man dressed in white smiles a broad smile and exclaims in a gentle voice, ‘Good afternoon Mr. Wilson, how are we feeling today?’

The old man feels the pinch of the needle as the attendant pierces his arm…then the attendant smiles another smile; closes the door and slowly walks away.

Soon the white walls of the padded cell transform back to the previous ocean scene.

And the old man starts once again building sand castles in the sun all whilst watching the tides of time destroy all of his dreams.

J. Allen Wilson © 6-11-2012