Faded Sandcastles

In my youth, I dreamed of days

when the world would succumb to
my whims and wants and ways,
but with each trip of the moon
that desire for power fades.
Thick ash fog presses down around me
by the cataclysms of life;
the mechanisms of clicking time
and lost rhyme
make strife stick like molasses
to the walls of my memory.
Deliver me back to when
I still wanted to grow up.
I want to go back to before ‘up’ was here, and fear
was only caused by imagination’s monsters.
Now I cry, terrified, as I
watch the old ‘mes’ fade.
Like chalk flowers in the rain,
Time devours all the pieces
of who I used to be,
but how hard can I fight
to save a memory?
All I ever wanted was to grow up.
Now, I’m stuck wanting desperately
to go back down the rabbit hole
of insecurity and frailty
instead of insecurity and responsibility.
But, I don’t have time for
Weakness or meekness
or even moments of true honesty.
Now, it’s just an ever growing list
of dos and don’ts and wants and can’ts
and “Dear god, son, pull up your pants!”
… because that’s a thing I say now…
Not sure how that happened
or when or why.
What happened to those diamonds that lit the sky?
The ones I’d count before I could fall asleep
while I wrapped myself in promises I meant to keep.
Now, they carry on without me
while I worry about
tax exemptions and pensions
and tension in my lower back
and the giant stack of “To be Graded”,
and the faces from the past get more faded.
I fight on to hold on
to the memories of talking trees
whispering to me in the breeze,
but there’s an ever-rising shore line
where butterscotch and skipping rocks
are drowned out by the self-doubt
thrust on you by someone else’s tide,
a wave of pride crashing around
the sandcastles
your grandmother built with you
back when wishes still came true.