My Home Is A Pit Of Sand

 I have sat here for some time,

Where I can reach food with ease.

Where I can smile and rhyme,

And the tide pushes in sand, piece-by-piece.

If I stay, I will surely suffocate.

I can see over the edge of my hole,

Charming skies and brightly seas,

And neighbors, too, with trying souls.

I enjoy the books all shelved with me.

The tide will fade eventually, has to be.

I listen to people bicker about the sand.

People in other holes like mine.

They demand to change where on land,

They choose to spend their lives and time.

If we stay, will we surely suffocate?

The neighbors, some, bear flags that say:

"The beach is my home, it's ours to defend!"

But the others, who also choose to stay:

"It is in danger, the waters will upend!"

All they say, is if we'll suffocate.

There are some men who march on land.

They kick at the edges, the trenches, and then,

When the tide comes, in comes the sand,

And some more pours into the basin again.

If we stay, we will surely suffocate.

The sand is ankle-deep, cool is it underneath,

I pull out my foot to see to be free,

But the scorching sand makes me retreat,

And I choose instead to fear the sea.

The tide will fade eventually, has to be.

The sand is deeper, and further still,

I hear some neighbors drown at will,

And down and down the sand can fill,

Until at last none left to kill.

If I stay, I will surely suffocate.