Wednesday, 14 September 2016

The end of the pier

Salt-tarnished, red-rust metal pillars
stagger beneath the weight of years
carrying century old timbers into the sea
never to return.  I walk the lonely mile
the gaps between the boards
growing ever wider.

I become liquid, seeping through
between those gaps, sliding away
from their grasp, plunging into the water
far below to mingle with the ocean swell,
to ride as Neptune's daughters
upon white horses.