There on the shore my father and I
sea breezed blown
he tanned and
black haired
waiting at a sanded
mound I ferrying Fantasia's beach
buckets of seawater
He drizzling into magical
being a castle
three quarters
as tall as I
All afternoon we worked the
sun lowering in the sky
people walking
by and stopping
to look to smile
a trio of tow-headed
siblings watching
for long minutes
thumbs in mouths
dumbfounded
until they were called
away
Finally sand golden sun setting He drizzled
wet sand through his handssqueezing a draped
doorway into life
a small fuschia flag
posted and waving
in the salty air
and I
watched my father
my castle
and the sudden unnoticed inexcorable
creep of the tide
lapping at its sides
I leaned against him
inhaling the scent
of him - cigarettes and salt
we bought creamsicles
from the man who came
around one last time
In the orange light
the bittersweet taste
of citrus and cream
on my lips the gentle tide
turned - rose and pushed
waves closer - inch by inch
until in a sudden lurch
of powerful spray
all that remained
was a tiny fushia flag
floating out to sea
My fathers arm
stayed around my shoulders
as we sat warm in the chill
of bittersweet
inevitability
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