Sandcastles Poem by Mark Heathcote

Far beyond any point of gratitude
a glowing light shines over a precipice
calls like sea waves retracting
around your dirty ankles, leaving
you a beach not trodden, love imbued
sparkles in the open breathlessness
here once more, pure. You are a child
seeing your first-ever pink starfish,
making that first washed-aside sandcastle.
Here once more, nothing is ever ramshackle
nothing reconciled or defiled,
pristine, the world has no more hardships.

Here there are no more
sandcastles standing
haphazardly washed aside.