When Sand Crumbles Under Running Feet

The castle stood for hours,

slowly shaped by tired hands and patient sun.

Each grain locked tight in stubborn walls,

a fragile kingdom on the damp, coarse shore.

Then came the sudden stomp, sharp laughter,

a boy racing, careless feet splitting the dust.

Sand tumbling down like breath spilled from a lung,

scattered ruins that no hand could gather whole.

I watched the fleeting king lose his ground,

not a conquest, just the mess left behind.

The beach swallowed the broken fortress fast—

sand forgets, but I don’t,

my fingers still trembling with the crack.