WHY IS IT CALLED A SAND TRAP AND NOT A MANDALA

RECYCLED SAND

Never alone on my island

surrounded by seas of deep blue o’erhead. 

No shark moon to feast

on the thousands of stars that remind me

of all that are here with me.

I wonder how it is that even though I spend my nights

in awe and wonder with you;

why is it my days are spent in solitude picking up

mountains of trash

that wash ashore in my present?

I understand that you want me to write messages of love

in the sand;

a new one every day to replace the one the tide washed away.

But first I am alone in daylight,

tell me how the beach got so covered in trash and debris?

I need to be able to find the sands

of your heart in order to be able to write upon them.

© M Durfee

9/4/13