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.