dreams

All that I have has slipped through my fingers like trying to make castles in the sand. The castles in my mind - sturdy, beautiful, fairy tale like but my hands do not bring my dreams to life. Time and effort crumbles between my inept fingers. These hands were not made to build. They do not craft fine things. My dreams do not come to life at my will. Instead, the sand castles fall, gracefully, fluidly, surprisingly quickly; my dreams erode. The fate of sand castles - to fall or be washed away, beautiful and short-lived, like my dreams.