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
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