By Skye Shae Bonati Circa 2011 A problem of love had escaped the night; Misfortune and pain were holding us tight. Oh, castles and star-gazer nights we had, But pleasure of time was driving us mad. The concept of love eluded us then; We built of sand for the castles of men. And the waves came crashing, pounding , dashing-- To be sure, we incurred quite a lashing. Almost letting go we held to our past, Hoping to find something more that would last. And finding naught but dust
