Poetry · Writing

Pride

We watched a young boy build a sandcastle. Trenches

wide and deep to keep the uninformed out. Towers high as his shoulder to stop the catapult attacks

to his heart. I can see his face filling this trench. The final

touch, a flag, of all colors at the highest point. We walked over with a piece of bark

for a drawbridge and said, “can’t keep them out forever.”

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