The Pier

The pier was old, many stories untold, its wood was weathered and gray and eerily silent and stark, it stood deserted in the dark. I put the car in park and felt the sea-wind whip my hair as I strode, feeling the rush of water under my toes, footfalls drowned by waves crashing below, braced against the wind at the end of the pier, each memory so dear, the end so near, the ocean's swells were huge and I felt a stab of fear... The ocean seemed infinite and I--- insignificant---as I waited for the magic (in a life so tragic) that I knew would come: the daily rise of the glorious sun, so strong, filling my heart with song, the beauty of dawn. The dark sky turned powder blue, all the colors began to shift their hues, my God, what a wondrous view, the sea turning to quicksilver and steel, the colors of the sky surreal--- I see the dolphins at play wondering when I lost my way as they head out to deeper waters, still waters, they say, run deep, what we sow, we reap, the memories we keep--- The beauty of the scene remains unspoken as I leave the pier, heart broken. ©Danielle White