Email Poem

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Poem

Drag the old bones forward to the dock
Feel the cold wet bricks on weathered feet
Through holes in worn out leather shoes
Feel the brass handle of your crooked cane
Trembling to support your ancient footing

Through the fog there is nothing left to see
After 3:00 am darkness fills in as company
Wood planks come up from out of nowhere
Indicate you’ve reached your destination

Stand silent on the boardwalk by the bay
Hear the rippled waves touch the souls of rocks
One false step could land you in the drink
There is no end to what the waters depths might mean

If the tide rolls in it will return tomorrow
But tonight an old woman comes by
Taps you on the shoulder in surprise
If you turn and she has wrinkles, kiss her
Hold her hand and smile
Hope the dock supports your plan

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