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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Monday, July 29, 2013


Sun shining upon me from above
Making freckles come out upon my skin
My long adolescent hair stirring in the wind
Sand playing in between my toes
Flicked off as I flick my digits together
Flying through the air
Going to who knows where

Surrounded by demolished and yet to be built sand castles
Light tan sand marked by periodic rocks of interesting composition and flavor
Small white shells and bits of lake washed wood
It's everything and anything about the texture
Each handful I pick up different from the last
As I clasp my hand around it letting it fall slowly from my grasp

Divoting down slightly in the middle
Pulled by an unstoppable force
Everything goes corkscrewing downwards
Through a glassy birthing canal to the future
Falling momentarily before finding a new footing
Upon a new beach
Covered in demolished and yet to be built sand castles
Tan sand, sea shells, lake washed wood and rocks of interesting composition and flavor

And me
My trimmed grey hair a shadow of it's adolescent past
Sun shining down warming my wrinkled saggy skin
Decorated with occasional sun spots
Larger versions of those past freckles

Sitting here at the bottom of the hourglass
Waiting for the sands of time to cover me up