Galveston

I sculpt in sand, wet at low tide
make a moat around walls wide
channel down to the surf fills moat,
towers in a kingdom by the sea.
My young son watches and suggests.
Mama slumbers under the umbrella,
Oma strolls seeking shells and such.
I look at lovely ladies frolic in the waves.
We eat and return to our rooms,
my son with Oma, so we are alone.
I pull off my suit, my bulge springs up;
you worry about next door, still strip and spread.
Later we stroll hand in hand,
tide has taken its toll -
little kingdom’s castle a mound ringed with water.

Poets choice, trigger 28