The Weekend
On a warm weekend evening
Casting line on nearby beach
Teasing setting Sun on our face
Hours run like minutes
And minutes like seconds...
Cool salty breeze kissing the hair,
as we enjoy the tiniest bits.
Trying real hard to catch one.
And the happy smiles,
On that first catch,
although small the catch was.
Raising sand forts in vain,
for the waves wash them clean
like wiping a slate.
The sand bits fall from the fort
set sail back to sea,
in search for their destiny.