Oh, dear sand! You tiny grains of volcanic matter.
Erosive forces wore you down until you were no longer one piece,
but thousands specks of quartz, covering the beaches
And now, you are in my shoes
And between my toes…behind my ears
And in my hair
I’ve washed my socks at least three times
But every time I slip them on,
there is still something grainy going on
I think I’m going to lose my mind
You cling to everything in my car– Wherever I look, there you are!
When I’m 30 year older, I just know I’ll find
a tiny grain of sand, that’s left behind.
