Sandbox

Childhood memories.

The voice is getting quieter
as the soft grains get closer.
We long for their warmth.

All that's left of our childhood
are the sand buckets and the memories
of sandcastles in the summer.

Their voices echo in our ears.

All we want is to reach the sandbox,
we want to take back our childhood.
We imagine sitting on the beach
and the waves
hitting our sandcastles
but
they are not real.

This place is in our heads.

Sisters, we share the same
dreadful memories and
terrorizing nightmares.
We long for the sandbox memories
to push away our fears.

The sandbox holds the innocence
of a child, the warm soothing
haven we crave to escape the sounds. 
Our father's voice booms, echoing in our ears,
threatening to take what is left of us;

to take away the sandbox.

We run faster and jump to our oasis,
the grains caressing our toes.

And then all at once,
the waves come and carry us away.