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The Pier

I close my eyes and am there

in the days past

waiting for my father to return

The wind against my face

seasoned by the smell of saltwater and seaweed,

the sun awaits to turn in for the day,

the hard edge of the pavement against my fingers

all remind me of the golden-edged memories

from a time when all was well

I'm back where

the wrapping of the packed lunch

rustles in the wind

Seagulls shriek and caw,

cry, begg for a good catch

Hundreds of wings flap

at the sudden chance of fish

Lazy splashes against the pier base

The light reflectedfrom the water

plays catch with the stone surface of the dock

A distant motor rumbles

and a moment later, a cluster of waves

The clang clang clang of ropes against empty masts,

sails gathered and resting for the night

Husbands, fathers, grandfathers talk loudly

and laugh before going back to their families

I don't want to open my eyes.


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