Castles are mine

Castles are mine is a beautiful poem by Garry James, which reflects the thinking of poet, from a nature loving to concrete life we have come a long way. Somewhere in between we lost the essence of life collecting the castles and with an illusion that they are mine. Greed, prejudice and possessiveness taking over.

It takes innocence to understand the simplicity of life. Hope we have learned from it and will let, children be children…

Castle’s are mine

My dreams,

Shaped by my own hands

That I have built my castles

Of this very sand.

 

When I fall back to past

I recall, rubble’s, lime

Of dust and grime

Helping golden hands

Which shaped the future.

 

I can’t stop admiring

My first step,

The first breeze hitting my face

From protruding castle openings

Soaking in and welcoming my pride,

Of wheels and pals, folly and glee’s

 

Those were of the past,

Slithering up to the crest

Pondering from the pinnacle

With many hands to aid.

Now, I barely touch the sand

For I can touch the sky,

But no more the past count

It’s more of castles that counts.

 

Happy to see my young image

Gathering and assembling on sand,

Reminds me of my castles

Faraway I see waves hurdle over other

Racing, taking back all on return

Sending a chill on my spine.

With outstretched hands

I try, to grasp every grain

For I foresee what may become.

 

But more resounding was

My son’s joyous clapping hands

With a failed attempt, I turnaround

To hear my son say, “No papa leave it,

The sea has come for the sand”.