Water, rippled and glassy, reflects

the pier lights, revealing

a sea of wavering candles;

gulls call to each other

in the balmy midnight,

their scavenging coming

to an end;

boats lay anchored,

dormant and unused, subject

to the whims

of the zephyrs that swirl

gently, almost seductively,

through the darkened

air,

their masts creaking,

yearning for

the endless blue.

 

Those pier lights stand there

boasting their unnatural

light, lighting

the path for no one but

the shadows they create,

and there’s a peculiar

calm resting heavy

upon all I can

see—including me—yet

I dare not

disturb it, not even

to go

home.

 

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