Wednesday, August 12, 2009

In the sands of time

As children
we used to play on a heap of sand
making patterns with polished stone chips.
They were buses, cars and heavy vehicles.
The finish lines and gas stations
were scaffolds made of twigs.

Often, petty fights arose
about the new roads we could take.
We argued and had the heap divided.
Each new member in the other team
upped our jealousy and we
destroyed their worlds
in one quick pouring of sand.

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