Sandcastle
For Ben, it had been
A miserable holiday
On the days that it
Wasn’t being pelted by
Angry east coast rain
The beach was the dominion
Of a terrible bully
Appropriately named Sandy
Whose number one pleasure
(After watching the patient
Painstaking build, with
Periwinkles and lolly stick flags
Atop multiple turrets), the
Divine purpose of his life
Was kicking down sandcastles
In fact Sandy loved to
Tramp them down
Just as much as Ben
Loved to build them
And because Sandy was
A big lad, the strapping son
Of a local builder, whose
Idea of doing business was
Offering a knuckle sandwich
There was no argument from
Child or parent on that
Sad stretch of beach
Until after the third day
Of Sandy’s gleeful destruction
Ben formulated a plan
That night, under a new moon
He climbed over the chained gates
Of Sandy’s dad’s latest building site
Stole a sack of cement
And spent the early hours
Fashioning a very special
Sandcastle
The next morning, it was said
That Sandy’s scream could be heard
On the other side of the North Sea.