My sand castles were nothing,
Scooped up mixture of mud and sand
In a square box,
A memory of a tired land.
No dreams of far off oceans
Nor a prince to rescue me,
I had no dreams yet, They had not been born
Yet my sand castles were something
I just didn’t know it at the time,
They were a part
Of who I’d become.
Peace, Love and Patchouli 
There was a sand box when I was a child, it was part dirt/part sand and I think the occasional kitty present too. It was an isolated life…not many friends, no dreams….but it is a new day and many dreams now.
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Where? I like placing people. It helps me understand. Where did you live where there was no dreaming and no sand.
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Thanks Russ, enjoying life and getting some writing done in between sun rays. Pool time and walking the dogs four miles a day, tires them out nicely. No sand castles, too busy looking for sharks teeth when I’m at the beach…no sharks attached thank goodness😊🌴☀️ peace and love my friend, Kim
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Now you create sand castles with words, and some may endure in the hearts and minds of people who experience them for lifetimes or longer.
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