Fine grains of sand trickled through my fingersScattered in the wind, but memory lingersSeagulls circled, called by the breaking wavesCastles built long ago, with buckets and spadesBeyond the horizon, where dreams are madeWill it last? Will it last? Let it stay. The fortress held before it’s washed awayThis brief moment, a picture postcard foundLooking out together, no words, no soundBeyond the horizon, where dreams are madeOnce I was younger, the path easy to beholdThe road stretched forever; wonders to unfoldLet me share these stories before I am undoneTwo of us rejoice for memories we have wonBeyond the horizon, where dreams are made. © Christopher.