Complicated Reality

It was going to be a sandcastle,

that was the plan from the start.

But every good plan, you must understand,

has it's own way of falling apart.

Before I could build up the towers

I had to sketch out the map,

As I carved the lines, I started to find

my castle was looking too flat.

So I began terraforming,

building up a lopsided hill,

with buckets of sand, a shovel and hands,

the beach rearranged to my will.

A stranger noticed me working,

an RC car driving champ,

he asked "Do you know how far I could go,

if I drove my car off of your ramp?"

So then we built out a runway,

and marked out a landing zone.

With a couple of tries to make the car fly

suddenly we were not alone.

Our audience carved out a sign

and a place to track the best launches

a few standing there used sand to build chairs

to let watchers rest on their haunches.

As the crowd got even bigger,

drivers in line for their turn,

our ramp was so fun, we outlast the sun

and a bonfire started to burn.

The stars began spotting the sky,

and I sat back to take it all in,

My castle was not, but the more that I thought,

I marked this one down as a win.

This beach didn't need any castles,

instead we built something grand,

a spot to enjoy, with smiles and toys.

A community made from the sand.

Author's Note: This poem was accepted into Changeling Annual's first Mini-Mag, a creative magazine featuring neurodivergent artists.