Driftwood

Rough, rugged driftwood
covered with grit and slime,
pierce not my soft white skin
with splintered fingers drawn,
as I reach with gentle hands
to place against my castle wall,
for you are real,
the precise material,
to bring alive
my splendid castle,
a gateway, for the crabs
the tiny fish,
my prize treasure
the envy of all the other kids,
who gape in awe,
at my castle
with it's proper
wooden drawbridge.