At the shore of night, in the quiet

               I can feel the grains      begin to pile up

               Packing the sand tightly into the bucket
               mindspace filled
               knowledge of what makes these grains so special

               Happy sick old sandman, Doctor do u have no cure?
               urself inside,
               outside once the tide has rolled past

               During the day work wittles away at the shore
                           slowly, painstakingly
                                         carving out
                                                       life

               Today,
                              everyday                 sometimes not seeing the tide
                                                       life
               carries a w a y some grains
               These will be what make my sculpture

                NOT inthis distanthorizon whereIwear a badgeofcourage and makedecisions
               which will wittleaway at othersgrains
                 where I first Built my sandcastle

               A child is crying on the wards, a sterile bed,
                 I am a mother, todayeveryday
               A child is crying on a sunny beach
                 WHO will help her build her sandcastles!

               Mocking expression the hourglass gracfully stands
              whispering grains of decision

               Heart contorted, red grains oozing
                 Have you no cure? The sandman can fix it

               Grains of decision, funny they burn my eyes \
               Still fall
                   ing
               Today wash a w a y in the tide my sandcastle
               Tommorrow
                   At the shore of daybreak, in the noise of the tide

               I now see the grains begin to pile up

                             - Callie Hall-Herpin, MSIII