Poem #2,774 | How these come about

How these come about
is a mind game for me –
my clueless crosswords
set every day [I compel
playing of them &’ll fail
a few mornings] – Fill –
air-words – writ long on
my phone & mirroring –
found synchronised on
my other devices – This
is my sandpit of vowels
& grains of truth [I shall
place my spade & dig &
re-fill that blue bucket]
& weep as my memory
scrapes at honest days
in my role as a father &
builder of sand-castles