Hills Of Sand

Hills Of Sand , those little hands pile.
Sea Shells they pick for crowning in style.
They divide into rooms the whole compound
Twigs for Lamp-Posts, Glass bottles for doors.

Bags and rings and ropes and more……..
Everything finds itself amidst all lure .

Nothing of which like ever was waist…
Such beauty lay strewn all over the place.
And then as sun began to take a dip..
All his dreams gave him a slip.

Suddenly as the shores went red…
All birds of hope flew …ahead
The beasts in water as if shaken from rest..unfed..
New grounds they began to tread..

Eyes heaping encomiums and soul thoroughly embroiled
Something for which he had his hands and heart soiled……
Gone with the tides was all his toil…….
Gone with the tides was all his toil…..