Every wave drags me out to sea.

My sandcastles built so high all fell immediately, torn away from fragile history, a whisper of wind ready to rip through millions of grains of sand. Weeks of sculpting falling before my eyes. But this wasn't the wind, this wasn't a playful child's feet running by carelessly, this was the storm, the moons absence forcing tides rushing along shorelines. Kids watched as the same happened to them so quickly. Their world falling from such great heights. Lives tumbled as the wreckage fell into the sea. Damsels unsaved as castles remained lumps of cold, wet sand. Kids ran back to their parents in cars, leaving the beach and all its misery. But I was left with the wreckage of sandcastles falling all around me, being swept out to sea. But my heart was left behind, the hurt stucked still in my chest. The past long gone, but ever present in my head.

The rain beat down, as I left the beach. I left the cold air and wet sand. Perhaps there was hope beyond the rustling trees and cracked wooden fences.