Sand-Centered

With one colossal grin plastered on my face,
I scrunch my nose unconsciously,
Watching my gooey masterpiece grow smooth
After each rotation of my fist
I grip the sacred shovel,
Producing furious motions that send specks of sand
Flying into the waves
Of my sun streaked hair
Satisfaction sparkles in my eyes
As I dribble the creamy soil concoction
Over a damp mound of dirt
Mud oozes from every crack of the bucket,
Splattering on my sundress
And seeping through my sandals
With hopeful anticipation,
I clutch my creation as if it were treasure,
Carrying it to safety in the roasting, dry heat
Three skips bring me back
To my spot in the sandbox
Where I wait for my work to finish its bake
I’ve got no worries in the world,
No worries in the world.